


Impossible

by GudufuFruit



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempted rape in the beginning BUT HE DOES NOT, Aziraphale is doing his best, Aziraphale is safe, Crawley gives up on life, Crawley is a softie, Crowley gets hit with the power of hell and becomes Crawley, Dear lord don't ever trap me in a storm, FUCK, Hurt and comfort, I'll tag this better later, M/M, Memory Loss, Sex eventually, Trauma? Falling is trauma so I'll put that there, bad things will happen, celestial energies merge, depending upon the mood either one can be a top, it is an attempt that quickly fails due to reasons, prepare for hell, there might be dubcon due to this shift in plot, why can't I write soft????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-09-27 08:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20404552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GudufuFruit/pseuds/GudufuFruit
Summary: Basically every 500 years Crowley will have all the power of hell for approximately a week. During this time he has no memories, sent back to when he'd first fallen.Aziraphale is stubborn and says he will help Crowley through it. Crowley agrees, lets him trap him in his flat in a circle.What happens next is a Demon named Crawley trying to cope with both his fall and love for an Angel, something that should be impossible.Note: Then I got mad and added a fuckton of angst and pain.





	1. Chapter 1

In hindsight, when a demon warns you they are dangerous and should be left alone it's probably best to listen. Aziraphale was not one to listen to such things, especially when Crowley was the one spewing them. So what if he was about to be empowered by the entirety of hell for a short time? So what if it happened every 500 years. And if Crowley couldn't remember a thing of what he did during these times, when he would come back to himself feeling empowered and refreshed? Well, what was there to worry for.

And the demon yelling his Angel he could be dangerous. How could he be? They were in love, madly and oh so deeply in love. Married, even. Which was how Aziraphale found himself making a rune to trap Crowley within his own home. It was upon request of course, Crowley not wanting to go wild and truly hurt anyone.

And if Aziraphale decided to stay here with him, to keep him company and ensure his safety… what harm was that? 

It had been two days already. Two days of Crowley being trapped within his own home while Aziraphale miracled half his library into a new room of the flat. One he'd specifically miracled for his own stay and one Crowley found himself spending quite a bit of time within. 

Now, something curious Aziraphale had learned over the years they'd been together after the not end, was that he actually could sleep. It just took some effort to truly exhaust him into sleeping. And Crowley was excellent at doing such things. 

Aziraphale had walked through the front door, a bag holding some delectable yummies in one hand and a drink holder in the other. Some gourmet coffee for his Crowley and some abomination flaunting itself as coffee for himself. He'd managed to step all of three feet into the flat before arms slipped around him from behind.

A hungry mouth attacked his neck with teeth and tongue, hands slipping beneath his clothes, Crowley pressing himself so perfectly into his love. Aziraphale could do little more than miracle the goodies onto Crowley's desk before being stripped right there. 

Crowley showed him no mercy this time, the demon already losing himself. But he was still coherent, still there enough to give Aziraphale anything and everything he so desired. And the way Aziraphale would sing for him, moaning and sobbing his name. The way he _ begged _ for more, almost like a _ prayer _. 

Aziraphale had found himself quite exhausted by the end of their fun, Crowley refusing to let him free. And the demon was fast asleep before Aziraphale could do little else. There was nothing stopping him from joining, knowing a little miracle could make the goodies in the office fresh and warm yet again. 

__________

Sleep, the Angel had learned, was such a wonderful thing. It allows one's body and mind to rest, for one to truly be at peace with the world. And best of all, it allows Aziraphale to cuddle for hours on end with his love. 

And that's just what Aziraphale's tired mind plans on doing. A groggy hand finds itself roaming over the plush comforters, searching and feeling for his love. When realization hits him that Crowley was _ not _ in bed a soft frown works across his lips. 

With a yawn he slips from the bed. The room is dimly lit as per usual, though a smell fills the air the more he wakes. Yes, something is definitely off about this morning. The scent of sulfur, of fire, of something oddly cold. It's tickling and teasing his nose, making him want to cover it and never breathe again while also sneeze his brains out.

Thankfully his nose adjusts in record time, a miracle assisting him. If he is to help Crowley through this trying time then he will need to be prepared! And he is. Oh, so prepared to do whatever it takes to keep his love content and happy! But, most of all, safe.

With that in mind, Aziraphale exits the bedroom. The scent hits him full force in the hall and he has to cover his nose with a cloth he miracles. He grimaces, looking through the air to find his love. That gaze shifts down, a slow horror growing across his face.

_ Soot _! Soot is everywhere through the floor and there are feathers within it, black and some still ablaze! He fears the worst, that his Crowley has fallen again, that his Crowley is in pain wherever he may be.

And so Aziraphale runs through the flat, fear fueling him as he follows the trail of mutilated and burning feathers. He comes to a stop at his own study, the place he created for his own entertainment here. Yes, the scent is strong within. 

He takes a shuddering breath and wills himself to open the door. It creaks open almost silently, revealing a horrific sight inside. 

Wings that were once beautiful ebony, covered in feathers, have been replaced with that of a bat's. Aziraphale's eyes trail from long red hair down a black robe to Crowley's reptilian feet. They have _ clawed _ toes and scales and he is quite intimidating with the increase in height from walking on one's toes. 

Aziraphale is speechless, breathless, as the demon slowly turns to face him. And now he can see it, how Crowley's face has changed. The sides of his face have little black scales on them, his eyes back to how they were in Eden. And are those horns sticking out of his hair? Short, curled, elegant, and jet black. 

Aziraphale releases a shuddering breath as his eyes trail from Crowley's eyes to his mouth to his hands. Scaled, clawed, monstrous things and yet Aziraphale is unafraid. This is his Crowley.

"Oh, Crowley!" He begins, a warm smile on his face. "You are awake, and my goodness, you look so different! Do your wings hurt, my dear?"

Crowley can only stare at him, reptilian eyes roaming the Angel head to toe. And then the - yes he does believe - Principality is approaching him. Such a foolish thing. Or perhaps… 

Aziraphale hears the door click shut behind himself, the whispers of a demonic miracle ghosting from behind. Powerful, far more powerful than what he's used to. It sends a shiver down his spine but that smile never wavers. 

"Have you lost your voice? Is this new form painful? I will do what I can to-mm?"

Aziraphale's eyes cross as a finger presses into his lips, the demon leaning down to do so. There's a curious twinkle in those reptilian eyes, the demon slowly bringing his finger down Aziraphale's lips to his chin. His finger curls beneath the Angel's chin, thumb delicately holding the man in place. 

Aziraphale's smile finally wavers as his head tilts to the side. Such gentle touches, moving him and easing him how the demon desires. He's being examined? 

Aziraphale shivers when Crowley releases him, that hand trailing down his neck to his chest then to a shoulder. The demon circles him, oh so slowly examining this Angel. And this _is_ his Angel. He can _ smell _ it. 

Aziraphale tenses when a snap rings through the air, eyes shooting wide as his wings pop out. They flutter for a moment, Aziraphale in absolute shock. How did he-?

"No, nonono, you know how I am about my wings." His voice is high, full of embarrassment.

Aziraphale is quick to turn and face his demon, wings tucking away as tightly behind his back as possible. It's a bit concerning he cannot will them away. They refuse him. And the demon, Crowley, his pupils seem to widen in interest. He's _ curious _.

"Crowley." Aziraphale takes on a firm tone. "No. You are _ not _ touching my wings. Let them free of… whatever miracle you have put on me if you will."

Crowley finally makes a sound, the gentle rumble of a chuckle. And he's moving closer, leaning down ever so slightly to get nice and close to his Angel's face. 

A finger finds itself back over his lips and Aziraphale's brows furrow. Honestly, what is he doing? So touchy, so _ invasive _ and he refuses to speak! He can make noise, that _ laugh _ was a noise! This is honestly too much. 

"Crowley. I will leave you alone until lunch if you continue acting this way. I mean it!" Even if his voice is high, he is being quite serious. 

And still the demon reaches out to touch those wings. The wrist is caught easily enough, Aziraphale giving Crowley the firmest look he can right now. He is _ not _ to be toyed with!

"Crowley, _ listen _ to me." The voice is firm, calm, demanding and bubbling with something _ holy _.

Crowley blinks at his captured wrist, gaze slowly shifting down and down until he's looking Aziraphale in the eyes. 

"Angel, release me." And the voice is of Crowley's but it's _ so _ deep. And there's an edge to it, a dark purr, like this is a game.

"O-Only if you stop trying to touch my wings." Aziraphale's own voice wavers now. He is unsure of Crowley, what he truly is at the moment. 

Crowley leans down, locking eyes with his prize. Such a beautiful thing, resilient too. Of course he would have something so lively as a pet. A little Principality, something he could have _ so _ much fun with. 

"You are my Angel and I will do as I please." 

With those words Aziraphale has ice shoot down his spine. His wings flutter and puff, his eyes widening. That isn't right, that's nowhere _ near _ right! 

"I'm- you- what?!" He can't even get the words out. Sputtering and hopeful this is some cruel joke.

"A grand display… But you _ are _ mine." The Demon feels his Angel shiver as he moves to the holy being's neck. "And I will have you." 

He can taste the flesh sour beneath his lips, tainted with something that should be bringing him nothing but pleasure. It was so sweet upon the first lick but now it tastes of fear. But fear is such a delicious thing?

Wings shoot out in a flurry of white, hands swatting and batting him away until Crowley is left alone in the study. He is quick to react, taking off after his Angel. He rips the door off its hinges and tosses it aside as he rushes down one of the long halls of his flat. 

Driven by _ something _ he cannot place, be it lust or greed, he chases after his principality. And just as the Angel reaches a room containing a desk he pounces. Aziraphale cries out as he's pinned, clawed hands pushing down into the soft flesh of the Angel's shoulders. 

"Release me at once! Off of me! Let me go!" And he continues to yell his demands, trying to cover his fear and worry.

Crowley can only growl as his Angel continues, slowly moving down to bury his face back in that neck. His tongue flickers over flesh, trailing from an ear down as far as that shirt collar will allow. He can feel Aziraphale shudder beneath him, those pleas going up in pitch and the wings continue to flutter. 

"Ssssssour." A hissing complaint that sends Aziraphale trying to curl into himself. 

The demon scrunches his face, inhaling deeply from Aziraphale's neck. Yes, even his scent is tainted. Is fear truly causing such a taste? A smell? But fear is _ delicious _! This makes no sense! 

"Why?" He asks against flesh, wanting so badly for it to return sweet, for that scent of fear to go away. 

"I'm not sour, but I _ am _ uncomfortable! Get _ off _ of me! Please! I don't want to do anything with you right now!" Aziraphale has fear laced in his voice, twisting and contorting it into something the Demon's ears despise with a passion.

He hisses lowly at his Angel, claws unhooking from his love's pajamas. And he's slowly lifting himself to his full height, the scent lessening ever so slightly. 

Aziraphale turns onto his back, eyes still wide as he takes in what this Demon just did. And this Demon is _ not _ his Crowley. 

"N-Now what will you do…?" And the vulnerable Principality's voice is still laced in fear, tainting those sweet tones.

Crowley hisses through his teeth, slowly lowering himself to a crouch to properly examine his Angel. 

"Make you sssweet again." The answer is a growling hiss, visibly sending Aziraphale into more tremors.

Aziraphale swallows thickly, staying on the ground. When he tries to will his wings away again they actually disappear, allowing him some sort of solace in this. His wings are _ highly _ sensitive and they are only to be touched when he _ wants _ them to be. 

"Sweet? Wh-What do you mean?"

Crowley can taste the air, taste his Angel from here, and that sour scent is lessening the slightest bit. He begins to think on this, the flavor of something so pure haunting his memory. This is his Angel, his prize, and yet fear causes it to sour.

"Crowley?"

Ah, he'd been staring hadn't he? Attention shifts back to reality, to the now, and Crowley's expression scrunches in distaste.

"Fear has a sour taste on you." He finally relents, his tongue flickering out once he's done speaking.

Aziraphale's brows furrow, confusion working its way over his face. Yes, he was uncomfortable and a decent amount afraid but if a _ taste _ was what was driving Crowley right now- 

"Then we can make me sweet by you being nice. Respect my boundaries and, well, be a good chap." Oh, he's saying _ so _many forbidden words right now. 

Crowley's expression slowly sours as that scent intensifies yet again. He didn't even do anything! Why is the smell increasing? What is he to do?!

"Am I _ good _ as… You say my name is Crowley?" The Demon begins, pupils dilating the slightest bit.

Aziraphale feels as if he's made a grave error and yet he cannot stop himself. He sits tall, prim and proper as always, looking the crouching demon in the eyes. 

"Yes, but you- he will never admit it. But Crowley has never wronged me and he loves me with all of his being…" Aziraphale's voice is warm and gentle, nearly pleading with this creature. 

And then his gaze is shifting down to his own hand. He shifts the ring on his left hand, signifying a human ritual they'd decided partake in. The ring consisted of black coiled around white, a serpent with an Amber eye lovingly coiling its neck around a white swan with a blue eye. 

The is something Aziraphale holds near and dear to his heart, never once removing it since Crowley placed it upon him some time ago. He gently shifts the ring on his finger before moving his hand forward.

He looks away from the demon now, a soft frown across his lips. He knows now this is just some facsimile of his love and nothing more, a true Demon. He can only thank his love for doing _ something _ to it, making it unable to harm him. 

"We're married." Flatly, softly, almost as if he's afraid this Demon won't believe him, he speaks.

The Demon tenses at this, pupils going back to slits. He looks to his own hands, easily able to see a ring upon his own left hand. Eyes remain wide as he closely examines the black ring. It's a _ snake _ and it's coiled around a beautiful red apple with a single white wing sticking out. The Serpent of Eden, coiling lovingly around the forbidden fruit- his Angel. 

Aziraphale's gaze remains off the Demon before himself, slowly returning his hand to his side. He lets out a long sigh, eyes closing as he waited for this _ thing _ to try anything else on him. 

"Ngk."

He tenses when air rushes past him, those massive black wings being put to use, and then there's the sound of running?

He opens his eyes in time to spot the Demon locking himself away in one of the other rooms. Eyebrows shoot high, a small pang of guilt hitting him. It should be relief! That Demon, the fake Crowley, it tried to violate him and now it seemed _ afraid _ of him! 

So what was he doing standing from his spot, not even giving the exit a glance as he approaches where the Demon locked itself away. As he comes closer he can feel the air shifting, dark energy muddling everything up. He had never felt anything like this in his life yet here he is, seemingly walking through a black cloud of- emotion? Perhaps just energy.

Whatever it was, he was feeling dreadful inside of it. Fear seemed to be the main emotion, a failure to _ understand _ to be _ wrong _ . Such a strange thing to feel and so _ strongly _ that it causes an ache in his bones as he reaches the door. 

"Crowley…? Demon…?" He tries, voice gentle as can be. 

"No! Go away!" It's meant to come out demanding, to shake the walls and send everything in the vicinity running, but the Demon's voice is laced with _ fear _. 

Aziraphale is taken back by this. He sounds genuinely afraid, as if Aziraphale is going to _ smite _ him! 

"Fuck off, Angel! You won't control me anymore!" 

Aziraphale blinks. Control him? Such a strange thing to believe, but then again, he did just show evidence of a _ demon _ being nice. Was it truly that horrifying to his people?

"I have never controlled you, Crowley. Influencing you, yes, but I have no power over you. All I have for you is love, even if you are this right now." Aziraphale's voice is pleading, filled with hope and compassion.

He reaches down, surprised to find the door is unlocked. Does the demon even know how to lock doors? It doesn't matter as he oh so slowly eases it open. And there's a flutter inside, the demon shoving himself as far back into the room as possible. 

Aziraphale stands frozen in the doorway, a slow pain consuming his heart. Crowley is absolutely petrified, clinging to the far wall and trembling. The poor thing, having completely gone from predator to prey in his own mind. Aziraphale can only make a soft gasp of an inhale, brows knitting and rising as that pain stabs through him.

"Crowley… My dear, sweet, Crowley…"

"I am _ not _ sweet! I am vile and monstrous and _ sinful _ ! I am The Serpant Of Eden, tempter of Eve! I am _ Crawley _!" Even as he yells, the fear spills through his voice.

_ Crawley _'s claws are digging into the walls as he clings to them, eyes wide and pupils the tiniest sliver of black- impossibly thin. He's breathing shallowly, shuddering with each short breath.

Aziraphale remains at the door, ignoring the pain this dark aura is causing him. He can only imagine what Crawley is going through. He decided the moment this Demon state who it believed itself to be then that's who it was. And even still the demon is his.

"Yes, a wily serpent. A serpent that causes humans to sin, tempts them, does such _ vile _ things. But one who is in love with an Angel." Aziraphale could feel the cloud lessen only to hit him full force. _ Love _, of course the word would set him off. 

"No! I can't be! Demons are incapable of Love!" Crawley seems as though he's trying to claw his way through the wall now, fingers digging in with his stress. And the pitch of his voice has gone so high, tears even pricking his eyes.

"But you can, and you do…" Aziraphale finally steps into the room, voice warm and inviting and filled with so much hope.

Crowley makes a strangled sound, pushing himself harder against the wall. He can feel it cracking, feel it trying to give way- but the circle! He's trapped by the circle! 

"I AM INCAPABLE OF LOVE!!!" He yells, ending it with a slam of fists against the wall.

And as his eyes open he sees this Angel coming even closer. Yet another strangled sound, one reminiscent of a cry, slips from his throat as he collapses to the ground. Grand black wings coil protectively around himself, knees pulled tightly to his chest as he trembles. But there is no escape and he knows it. 

"Oh, Dear…" Aziraphale finally stops, pain and worry thick in his voice.

He looks his trembling love over before turning the slightest bit. He has an idea but it means abandoning Crowley, but what else can he do? Getting close will surely send him to screaming and lashing out in fear. With a pained expression, Aziraphale turns and exits the room in a hurry.

The demon remains coiled in on itself, eyes still wide as he processes this. He is a _ demon _ . He is a being of everything _ wrong _ and _ bad _ . His nature is to violate, to _ corrupt _ , to destroy. Love is not forbidden, it is _ impossible _ . Lust, now that is allowed. But what this Angel speaks of, what it has shown, what he _ feels _ so strongly in the air- even now- it's _ wrong. _

But what if the Angel is speaking truths. His thoughts begin to shift, horror taking the place of fear. If this Angel has convinced him to be _ kind _ , to leave behind his vile nature- if only for the Angel and that Angel alone. It was a weakness, it _ is _ a weakness. But he cannot bring himself to harm the Angel.

Even if he tried, he knows now that this Angel has power over him. That sour taste, that smell, it's just the beginning. If he were to hurt the Angel, to gut it as it so deserves, what horrors would befall him? Admittedly the first had been driven entirely upon lust but truly harming or violating this holy being could result in so much more than just a _ taste _.

He needs to escape, to keep his distance. Hiding from an Angel, a _ principality _ no less, would be a disgusting waste of what he was. But what else is he to do? The Angel controls him and right now, well, Crowley is at his very core. No memories, no emotions, nothing to hinder him in his horrid acts.

Yet here he is, trembling and afraid of what emotions have driven themselves so deeply within that even Hell cannot rip them from him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawley opens up.

The door opens with a soft sound, bringing with it that  _ sweet _ scent of the Angel. The right scent. The one he wanted to claim, still  _ wants _ to claim. Crowley's wings lower when he heard glass tink against the floor. He shivers at feeling a minor miracle, the tink now so much closer. 

He peeps through the blackness, first spotting his Angel. He seems to be settling in just outside the room, a cushion beneath his bum. He has some sort of liquid in a small container, it smells… earthy. 

His tongue flickers, gaze slowly going down until he spots his own container of steaming liquid. His eyes shift towards his Angel before he slowly reaches out. His hand trembled as he carefully captures the mug in one hand. It's warm, pleasantly so. He brings the mug to his face to examine, wings curling back up in that tight cocoon.

In the doorway, Aziraphale wears a gentle smile. He sips his tea and opens a book, letting out a contented sigh. Crawley will come around with time. The poor dear just needed to breathe, to think. But he was positive whatever had kept the Demon from attacking him would bring him back, allowing Aziraphale to show him the love he deserves.

It isn't long before Aziraphale loses himself in his reading. The tea, miracled to keep refilling itself, keeps him nice and content. Back in the room, the demon hasn't moved from his winged cocoon. He  _ knows _ what he is. He knows what he can and cannot do, what he  _ should _ do. And this Principality has him trapped. He is unable to do what is needed, instead being plagued by  _ emotions.  _

He had finished the tea long ago, now sitting impatiently. He has been waiting, idly listening to the soft sound of pages being turned. The slurp of sipping tea is the final straw. He grits his teeth, wings opening wide as he throws the mug with all his might.

Aziraphale looks up just in time to see white shatter into a cloud of dust. The demon has a strangled expression, rage and fear and that cloud is back with a vengeance. 

_ I couldn't do it! _

The demon cries within his own head, unable to believe what just happened. 

The Angel can only stare, the slow realization hitting him as that mug  _ should _ have. Crawley tried to  _ hurt _ him! He did! But he couldn't! And now the poor dear is hiding within his wings again. 

"WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!" Crawley yells, muffled by his own wings.

Aziraphale's expression softens, the book gently set aside. He gets to his feet, slowly making his way into the room. He kneels down at the halfway point, sitting tall as always. He knows now that Crowley is protecting him, even if he is gone for the moment. Crawley can do no harm. 

"Crawley, I won't hurt you." Aziraphale tries, voice filled with love.

Crawley grits his teeth, wings trembling as they part enough to allow him a peep at the  _ pest _ . And oh, is he beautiful. Crawley's mouth feels dry as he takes in the true beauty before himself. That blonde hair, that gentle smile, those loving eyes. This truly is an Angel, an Angel that can smite him- no. It cannot. Only an Archangel would be powerful enough to smite him in this state.

His tongue flickers, tasting the air. And that sour smell is long gone. The fear. Crawley feels something within himself, a desire that he cannot commit to. He shouldn't even  _ have _ that feeling! What did this Angel do to him?!

"I am a  _ demon _ . You should  _ leave _ me  _ alone _ . Release me." Crawley has managed to find his voice again.

Yes, even if he cannot hurt this Angel the Angel is unable to truly hurt  _ him _ ! A stalemate! Oh, cursed by Hell itself, he would prefer to be out causing mayhem and destruction instead of being  _ here _ . Trapped with an Angel that has  _ Crowley _ wrapped around a finger. Disgusting really.

"I should, but I won't." Aziraphale says, very firm on it.

"Crawley, we met long  _ long _ ago. But I suppose you don't remember that." Aziraphale hums, taking in a soft breath. On this was going to be fun to explain. 

The Demon is staring at him, wings still shielding most of his body. But that aura lessens, the intensity fading ever so slightly. Aziraphale knows his love, how curiosity fuels him. And so, he will gladly indulge.

"My name is Aziraphale, I was the Angel guarding the Eastern gate. And, I gave the humans my flaming sword." 

Crawley's eyes go wide at this bit of information. An Angel doing that?! Without  _ falling?! _

"And I proceeded to… lie to the almighty about it." Aziraphale didn't sound proud of that one.

"Why? Why would an Angel- you- ngk…" Crowley's outraged tone shifts to a more, almost pained one, as he settles back against the wall. 

"And from then on, you and I found one another. You would save me, keep me company, tempt me. Oh, you are good at tempting me. Such a tempter." Aziraphale hums fondly. 

Crawley is highly uneasy with all of this.  _ Saving _ the enemy? Keeping him company? But tempting? Yes, that sounds evil. Absolutely vile, he likes that. 

"In time we came to an agreement." Aziraphale's expression is more firm now, serious. "I have done horrid temptations for you. Our agreement being one of, well, convenience. Why should we both travel when one of us can do both good  _ and _ evil? The work of heaven and hell? Lessen the load, the travel." 

Crawley's wings were almost settled by his sides now, his robes entirely visible. He was opening up, curiosity written all over his face. 

"And, in short," Aziraphale continues. "We became… friends. I refused to acknowledge this, my feelings for you, but I could- you loved me so strongly. You still do. Even now, I can feel it in you."

The demon curls back into himself at that. He did  _ not _ feel love. He didn't know what this feeling in him was towards the Angel, towards  _ Aziraphale,  _ was but it was  **not** love.

"Time passed, we continued our arrangement, you continued to save me… My peckish nature, ah, got me in quite a predicament more than once. Anyhow, when the Antichrist was born-" 

"He is born?!" Crowley shifts to his feet, a flurry of a motion that has Aziraphale looking up into those bright eyes. 

"Yes, and a lovely youngling at that. Told Satan to his face his human father was his true father. Reality shifted to accept it. His name is Adam."

Crawley oh so slowly let his wings coil back behind himself. His gaze is intense, never slipping from Aziraphale's own loving one. 

"So the Apocalypse…" 

"Never happened, hopefully never will. We ended it, or we planned to, together. Our love for the Earth- your love for me- our love for one another- we renounced our respective sides. I believe in Her will, Her love, though I do not carry out Heaven's orders. And you, my dear,-" 

"I'm a free Demon." Crawley's voice was laced in awe.

Angels, he knew, were never ones to lie. And never ones to lie so  _ well _ . He swallows thickly, though his mouth and throat remain dry. His gaze shifts from Aziraphale to the walls as he shakes his head. A soft bout of laughter starts up deep within his chest. 

Aziraphale feels a cold chill as that laughter turns roarous, Crawley hugging his stomach as he buckles over. His wings shake as he gasps for breath between howls of laughter, unease slipping ever deeper in Aziraphale. 

When it does down, Crawley moves to stand tall, looking down at Aziraphale almost fondly now. 

"You are a bastard of an Angel, aren't you?"

Aziraphale's smile returns with warmth, furrowing his brows. Oh, of course he would say such a thing. 

"Enough of a bastard to be worth knowing, my dear." Aziraphale's voice is laced with love.

Crawley can't help but laugh again at that. This Angel agrees with him? That he's a  _ bastard _ ?! The Demon doesn't understand the significance of the words and Aziraphale cannot bring himself to ruin this. Crawley is finally done hiding from him. 

"Loving a Demon… We- you sleep with him too, don't you? Let Crowley  _ fuck _ you?" Crawley's grin is near sadistic now.

Aziraphale's expression drops and he huffs. How absolutely  _ rude _ . 

"It's more him begging for release as I torment him. He likes it that way." Aziraphale has learned from Crowley himself how to be more of a bastard, and oh, he definitely  _ will _ be with this Demon.

Crawley makes a choking sound, all laughter gone now. He feels a warmth in himself bubbling up accompanied by lust. And oh, he can definitely see why Crowley would beg for this Angel. Was he even an Angel? Did Angels talk like this? Act like this?

"Now, if you are done sulking, come with me." Aziraphale spoke as he stood, immediately turning to exit the room.

Crawley could only stare at him as he made his way to the door. As if on their own, his feet began to move. Before he knew it the room was left behind, the Demon blindly following after his Angel. He could smell that sweetness again, what was it? Trust? No, that had a different smell. 

Aziraphale made his way into Crowley's bedroom and went straight to the bed. He settled down on the edge of it, giving the spot beside himself a soft pat.

Crawley had a thrill run through him, moving far too quickly now. But before he could properly sit on Aziraphale's lap to begin ravaging him he's stopped by a hand. Aziraphale's expression is firm as he guides Crawley to sit beside him instead.

And then the Angel is guiding him down, head first, into a warm lap. He lets out a soft rumble of bliss, enveloped by that sweet smell now. And he's so close to a prize the prize he wants the one he  _ needs.  _ But his head is turned away towards the door. 

Crawley's eyes widen as he feels a hand trail through his hair, slowly beginning at the roots to trail through those curls. He can feel the small miracles those fingers conjure, untangling his hair as they go. He can only sigh out in absolute bliss, eyes closing. 

"I made a promise to care for you while you are like this and I fully intend on keeping it." Aziraphale's voice is still laced with love, with warmth.

Crawley hates the feeling he has within himself for it, the odd bubbling warmth. Only hellfire is supposed to be in there and yet that bubbling, that gentleness, it's smoothing away the burns. The true heat fades as that warmth overtakes it and Crawley grows concerned. What is this?

"I love you." Aziraphale speaks softly, fingers trailing through and combing that lovely hair.

Crawley allows himself to melt into this, a thought making itself very real now. Maybe he is in love with an Angel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to train your Demon.

Crawley isn't sure when he lost himself to the world, but sloth is such a lovely thing. Too bad it meant falling asleep on his Principality's lap. The demon finds himself waking up in the lap of luxury. A warm bed, sheets tucked loving around him, pillows supporting him where needed, and something warm on his middle. 

His tongue flickers as consciousness slowly takes him, Crawley sitting up from his spot. He feels the warmth slide down with the blankets, startling him a bit. He lifts the bedding, slowly feeling about the blankets until he finds the warm one. He draws out the much smaller blanket, idly examining it. 

Something to keep him warm, even if he's cold blooded. How thoughtful. Crawley huffs and sets it aside, his thoughts beginning to run rampant again. 

The Angel, who's name he can only remember ends in  _ Fell _ , is clearly in love with him. And Crawley's body keeps reacting in a way that will not allow the Principality harm. It's unsettling, being unable to harm an Angel. But whatever is in him now, that warmth he'd felt before falling asleep, it was (for lack of better words) a blessing. 

The fires of hell lived within every demon, adding to their eternal suffering. Nothing should be able to lessen the flame except carrying out vile deeds. Evil satiates the flames, allows them to die down to a more manageable level. If a Demon goes too long without committing any sins the fires can discorporated them, sending them back to hell for punishment in dereliction of duty.

So why were the flames not consuming him? How could this warmth Aziraphale forced within him (he's keeping to that mindset) keep the fires at bay? He can barely feel them even now, but that  _ warmth _ . He isn't sure what to do. 

__________

  
  


Aziraphale had taken to resting in his library away from home. The goodies from yesterday were easy enough to miracle fresh, even if it gave the slightest taste of being tempered with. He would gladly leave to bring more food in but with Crawley asleep he didn't want the poor dear waking up alone.

Love was something Aziraphale could always pick up on. He is made of it after all. And from Crowley, from Crawley, he can still feel so much. The Demon clearly cannot understand this emotion, at least, not yet. But this Principality has such a lovely plan in store. 

It's thrilling to be able to see his love this way, though a tad painful at first. Crawley is Crowley lacking everything they have built together. He's curious of what his love's most inner desires are, his needs, his wants. And the Love he keeps picking up on, the Demon clearly unsure of it, but so there! 

He takes a sip from his abomination meant to be coffee. The flavors swirl and mingle on his tongue, sending warmth and bliss as he savors it. With a slow swallow he returns to his book, warmth settling in his belly. 

He moves to turn a page, pausing as he hears the soft click of claws. Ah, he's awake. With a warm smile, Aziraphale turns the page and returns to his book. Crawley will seek him out if he so chooses, Aziraphale knows what's he's done. 

Outside the door, Crawley is frozen. He wants more of whatever it was before he fell asleep. He  _ needs _ more. The Angel's fingers feel incredible and being surrounded by that smell had him feeling  _ things _ . He didn't even feel  _ lust _ in that lap! No, just that bubbling warmth that quelled the fires within. And it was still silencing them. 

But, he is a Demon. And Demons  _ must _ be firm. He will not have this Principality wrapping  _ him _ around a finger. Crowley may be a lost cause but Crawley will be the master here! He will gain control of this Angel and nothing will stop him from doing so.

With that in mind, the door swings open. Aziraphale looks up from his book, giving a warm smile that has the Demon's glare nearly fail. But he is  _ strong _ ! He will  _ resist _ ! 

"Angel." Crawley is thankful his voice comes out low, commanding. "I command you to touch me like you did before my rest."

The Demon feels himself slipping as the Angel's warm smile turns to a soft frown. The displeasure he sees feels as though it can manifest into something all too real, something sickening and  _ painful _ even. 

"Crawley." He begins, the tone having Crawley shiver and his wings fan out the slightest bit. He's defensive. "If you want anything from me, you must be polite. Ask me kindly and I might do as you ask."

Outrage fills the Demon as Aziraphale takes yet another sip of his drink. Crawley was  _ not _ kind. He was the opposite! He was vile, he was evil, he  _ is _ evil! And this Principality will get nothing from him! He will _ never _ submit! 

"I am  _ not _ kind." He snarls, wings flaring out fully now.

Aziraphale lets out a soft sigh, setting his drink back down. 

"Then you will get nothing from me. Now, shoo." Aziraphale's voice is still warm, even if he's being stern.

Crawley's eyes are wide at this, this  _ boldness _ ! How  _ dare _ this Angel speak to him in such a way! How dare he tell the Demon off in such a childish way. He feels fire grow in his palms, heat slipping through his teeth. And yet the Angel refuses to look at him.

The fire grows, his breathing coming harder and deeper, until finally- 

Aziraphale glances up when he heard rapid steps leaving the room. He can tell this version of his love is going to be quite a handful, but he will come around. Aziraphale has learned so much over the years. Crawley will be his soon enough. 

His body goes rigid as a  _ demonic _ wail erupts from the hallway. He lets out a shuddering sigh, eyes a bit wider now as he tries to focus in on his book. Crawley, most definitely, is his demon. If a bit more dramatic than usual. He never thought it possible.

Outside, Crawley has resorted to stalking through his own home. He rakes his claws along the walls as he goes, wings nestling tightly against his back. He can only see red at the moment, outraged and entirely  _ insulted _ . This Principality is is going to drive him insane! 

Soon enough he finds himself slipping within a room  _ filled _ with plants. His gaze shifts around the room as the foliage begins to tremble. A slow inhale has him filled with absolute bliss.  _ Yes _ , this is what fear is meant to be! And he has his own supply of terrified living things! 

Perhaps  _ Crowley _ is still a vile creature. 

__________

  
  


Aziraphale's expression has been one of mild annoyance for hours now. The moment Crawley left there were scrapes and moans, but then the  _ screaming _ began. Deep, guttural, multitoned and most definitely the works of something not of this world. 

He tried reading his book, even now he tries, but the screaming doesn't stop. Crawley isn't even speaking English! And his word choice had Aziraphale's ears burning. Not really but there is only so much one can take of this madness. 

Thankfully the Demon quiets down. His yells turning to snarls before the voice is so low Aziraphale can finally return to his book. He opens to the page he was on before only to tense.

Crawley slams the door open, Aziraphale giving him an annoyed look over his glasses. The demon is still huffy, wings fanning out as he stalks ever closer. Aziraphale has little warning before Crawley is upon him. 

Aziraphale's book is lifted high as the demon all but collapses in front of him. On his knees, Crawley shoves his face into Aziraphale's stomach and wraps his arms almost harshly around the Angel's middle. Before Aziraphale can even begin to ask what Crawley is doing, the demon lets out a low hiss. 

"Pleasssssssse."

The smile that graces the Angel's lips could easily be mistaken for an imp's mischievous grin. He sets the book aside, gently petting a hand through Crawley's hair. The Demon lets out a low groan of bliss, his hold lessening on Aziraphale's middle. 

"Now, was that so difficult?" Aziraphale hums, entirely satisfied. 

Crawley only hisses at him before muffling himself in his Angel's tum. He nuzzles into the sweet scent Aziraphale is putting off, wings relaxing as those fingers ease through his hair. 

"I want to love on you, but you make it so difficult, my dear." Aziraphale hums, trailing a hand down Crawley's neck. 

The Demon shivers at the touch, inching himself closer. He doesn't care he's on his knees to this Angel, it's all part of the manipulation plan! Yes, make the Angel believe he's being  _ kind _ and  _ nice _ just to use him for more touches. (Something to note is that the demon has always been fantastic at lying to himself.)

"Could you stand for me? Would you prefer a chair? A cushion?" Aziraphale's fingers slip from the Demon's hair and he lets out a low growl.

"Rude." And with the tone shift that Demon relents, burying himself further into Aziraphale's stomach. 

Aziraphale can only sigh at how obviously touch starved his demon is. Crawley, the poor thing. His most recent memories are most likely of his Fall. He needs this gentleness, this love. And the way he clings, it only reenforces this. "Don't let me go" it screams, his demon always speaking through action more than words. 

"I forgive you. But I do need you to stand. Let me go, I will hold you after I place a cushion for you." Aziraphale's voice is gentle, filled with so much warmth it's nearly painful for the Demon. 

Crawley oh so slowly shifts himself back from his Angel, expression one of a silent plea.  _ "Touch me. Love me."  _ It cries and Aziraphale feels a pain at his very core from it. 

With a minor miracle, a large plush cushion manifests at Aziraphale's feet. The demon scrunches his nose in distaste at the  _ holy  _ miracle but he does move back. He settles himself on the cushion, curling his legs to the side now. Far more comfortable than being on his knees. 

"That's it come here and let me love on you." Aziraphale's smile flutters through his voice.

Crawley shuts his eyes as he settles between Aziraphale's legs, face nuzzling into that plush tum. He sighs out in bliss as fingers return to his hair, his own hands gripping lightly at Aziraphale's coat. The Angel can feel those talons slipping through the fabric, threatening to puncture his back, though he is unafraid. 

"That's it…" 

Crawley's pained expression, the fight within himself, is soon coming to an end. The warmth has all but run off that fire that should consume him at all times. He feels safe, at peace almost. Something a Demon in their right mind should  _ never _ feel, especially in the arms of an  _ Angel _ . 

Aziraphale's fingers trail through those lovely red locks, though one hand has his curiosity. It ghosts over a small curled horn, elegant and beautiful like the rest of his Crawley. He can feel the Demon's breath hitch at this but shushes him, a finger gently tracing the odd thing. 

"Why?" Crawley asks, voice nothing but a breath.

"Because I'm curious. Does it hurt?" Aziraphale's hand stills as worry fills his voice. 

"No. I feel nothing." Crawley speaks bluntly, though there's a pang of  _ "no, don't stop, keep touching me" _ in that voice.

"Return to it, Angel." Crawley tries to put a snap in his voice, burying himself back in Aziraphale's middle. "Pl _ eeeeeasssssssse _ ." And the hiss is mocking, but he cannot show weakness to this Principality. 

"Such a rude thing." Aziraphale huffs, running a single hand through Crawley's hair. "But what should I expect… My dear, you  _ are _ trying."

Crawley groans at that, pushing himself back to give Aziraphale the most violent glare he can. It looks more like a pout. 

"I  _ will _ get what I want from you." Crawley's voice is low, filled with uncertainty. He doesn't like how his own voice fails him. 

"Tk, oh, Crawley… you don't even know what you want from me." Aziraphale's voice is still so warm, but Crawley  _ knows _ something is off about it. Not entirely Angelic so to speak.

Crawley's breath hitches as a hand cups his cheek. He can't peel his gaze from Aziraphale's own, those blue eyes boring into him. He feels so small, so vulnerable. 

"What do you want, my dear?" Aziraphale breathes, more than willing to comfort this poor creature.

Crawley's eyes shut tightly and he bows his head, a soft "ngk!" ringing out. His wings raise before trembling as they slowly settle back down. His hands find themselves gripping even tighter at Aziraphale's coat, the fabric ripping beneath his talons. And yet flesh goes unmarked. 

Aziraphale furrows his brows, reaching out to gently pet down Crawley's head again. The demon releases a shuddering breath as something red drips down. Then another. Another. 

Realization hits Aziraphale and in an instant he's miracled himself down on the cushion with Crawley, sitting high on his knees to properly hug the Demon's head to his chest. 

"Shhh-shhh, I'm here. I have you." Aziraphale does his best to soothe over the ache, voice filled with so much worry.

He gasps when arms pull him tightly, Crawley burying his face as deeply in Aziraphale's chest as possible. The red continues to slip from his eyes as he trembles, the demon beginning to truly sob now. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry, I should never have pushed you." Aziraphale murmurs against Crawley's hair. 

He holds his love closely, firmly. The tears sting his flesh but he ignores the pain. Something so little could never keep him from comforting his love. 

Crawley can't stop the flow of tears, the way his body trembles with each breath he doesn't even need. He can feel that warmth so strongly, attempting to replace something that was ripped from him long ago. Her love, Her presence, had been something to warm and caress each and every Angel to ever be created. 

And once it was ripped away, he was left with pain. A flame, a burning all consuming agony that would only turn to cinders once he gave in to their will. But now? Here? He can feel it! He can feel  _ love _ ! It isn't Her love, but by Go- by Sa- by  _ someone _ it feels incredible! It stops the pain, it quells the flames, it makes him feel  _ good _ . 

And he knows what he wants from this Angel, what he _needs_, he knows it at his very core. But it's not  _ possible _ to want such a thing! He is a being of  _ hate _ , but the warmth that fills him, the sweet smell that has surrounded him, that holds him close. 

He is loved.

__________

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The demon needs cuddles.

Aziraphale had been ignoring the soft burn of Crawley's tears as he cried. He had pet through long locks, spoken soft words of love and reassurances. But it still took time for Crawley to calm down. First the tears had stopped, with them the burning of holy flesh. Next came the uneven breathing, slowly easing itself out into long breaths. There was a tremor here and there but he was doing so much better. 

When he is calm, Aziraphale gives his forehead a soft kiss. He lowers himself, cupping the Demon's face in both hands. Their eyes meet and Crawley's shoot wide as he feels lips brush against his own. The warmth that shoots from the touch, the explosion of  _ love _ within himself. He can't stop himself from leaning in and pressing into the warmth.

Aziraphale pulls from the kiss after a few moments, giving his red eyed love a warm smile. 

"Feeling better?" He asks, never breaking eye contact. 

Crawley manages a highly intelligent noise in response, jaw loose. The small nod accompanied with it has Aziraphale's eyes crinkle as his smile grows. 

"Good. Now, I know what can make you feel even better." Aziraphale hums, releasing Crawley's face.

He moves to stand though hands grip at his coat. Aziraphale looks back into those eyes, seeing the desperation, the  _ need _ of affections and attention. It pains him but he cannot lie on the ground forever. Even so he settles back upon the cushion, Crawley clinging to him. 

"When you're ready, my dear…" Aziraphale's voice remains full of love, even if he is tired of sitting here.

Crawley nuzzles into his chest, claws idly toying with the strips of fabric he'd torn loose. His mind is still trying to comprehend this, take in what he feels and what has happened. Is this why Crowley clings to this Angel? The Love? Something so pure, something so strong as to quell the flames and make him feel  _ things _ . 

He can feel his Angel souring again, taste the mild pain in the air. With a shuddering breath he slowly releases Aziraphale from that tight embrace. He sits back, allowing his Angel space to stand and he does. 

The symphony of pops falls on deaf, defeated ears. Crawley keeps his head down, mind still racing and deadset that this is some cruel trick. He is being punished. He is being teased and tainted by this Angel. Armageddon had to have happened, Heaven won, and Crawley- Crowley is this Angel's pet. He had it backwards.

A hand gently taking his own has the Demon's thought process waver. The touch is so warm, it ignites that bubbly feeling again, driving away flames that keep trying to rise again. He looks up, meeting a blue eyed gaze once more. 

"Up, I have something for you to try." Aziraphale is suddenly quite giddy, voice filled with mirth.

And the smile is contagious, though Crawley refuses to let his lip twitch up. Instead he pulls on his Angel as he stands, forcing the Principality to fall into his chest when he stands tall. And now he grins, looking down at the Angel. Aziraphale's face colors slightly and he gives Crawley a very stern pout. 

"Rude! So very rude. Crawley, why are you acting this way? Do you want my affections?"

That "threat" has his grin gone, pupils shooting to slits. Aziraphale huffs as his warning is heeded, keeping a firm hold on Crawley's hand. 

"Then  _ behave _ . Now, come." Aziraphale has a bit of an uppity tone as he begins leading the Demon out of this study.

Crawley is helpless to follow, unable to resist. He isn't even sure he wants to. He finds it awkward walking behind the Angel. His wings prevent them from walking side by side and the height difference has him leaning down the slightest bit. It's quite uncomfortable. 

Luckily the walk is short, Aziraphale guiding him to sit on a round chair without a back. The word "stool" comes to mind as he settles himself on it. Aziraphale grins at him, snapping his fingers. The food from before appears on the counter of the bar, displayed over two plates.

The pastries look absolutely divine in Aziraphale's opinion, but this is a gift for Crowley to taste. The Demon can only stare down at the odd things. One is filled with a red substance, another shining with some sort of glaze, and a third covered in white powder. He isn't sure how he feels about this.

"Try one, they're absolutely scrummy." Aziraphale is grinning in his voice again.

The word "scrummy" is repeated in Crawley's head as he takes in these odd things. His gaze shifts over to the other plate. It takes him only a second to register what these are and he's popping one into his mouth. 

Aziraphale's grin grows only for it to shift downwards as Crawley just  _ swallows _ the deviled egg. He didn't even  _ taste _ it! When the demon reaches for another egg Aziraphale is quick to pull the plate away. 

"Crawley, you  _ chew _ food! Savor it!" He sounded downright offended, and he  _ was _ .

Crawley's expression grows confused before he realizes something. This Angel is encouraging him into gluttony. This holy being wants him to  _ sin _ and is teaching him a proper way of doing so? His wings flutter as his pupils widen in interest. At least the Angel knows how to care for a creature of Hell. 

"A small bite, then chew." Aziraphale instructs, plucking up an egg.

He moves the food to Crawley's mouth, watching the Demon's pupils grow a tad more. He pauses and inch away, Crawley slowly moving forward to bite half the egg. His tongue flickers over fingers as he takes in the much smaller bite, leaning back to chew his food. 

"That's it…" Aziraphale hums, still holding out that egg.

Crawley does as he's been told, chewing and actually experiencing the flavor before he swallows. He leans forward again, taking the rest of the egg into his mouth along with a few fingers. He hums in utter bliss, the egg nothing compared to the Angel. 

Aziraphale's face redens as he pulls his fingers away. He holds his breath, watching the demon stare at him with ovals for pupils. He seems highly interested in something that is  _ not _ food. 

Crawley's attention returns to the plates and he decides to try something. If he offends the Angel, he has a feeling this Principality will come back shortly there after. He hesitantly picks up one of the eggs, attention returning to his Angel.

"You should try." He murmurs, now holding the egg out to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale's face colors even more but he can't help but lean in a bit. Crawley is being  _ nice _ he's  _ listening _ . And he's even sharing! Sharing is good! He lets out a soft breath before taking the smallest bite of egg Crawley imagines possible. 

He leans back in his seat, chewing slowly and closing his eyes. There's a soft him of bliss that has Crawley wanting a taste of his own. When Aziraphale looks back his breath hitches. Crawley's pupils fill the entirety of that gold now, his sole focus on the Angel. 

Aziraphale has seen this before, many times actually. The most recent being right before Crowley turned into Crawley. And what fun that had been. 

The egg is pushed back to Aziraphale's mouth, the Angel watching very closely as he takes another bite. Oh, and now there's even more filling with this one. He pulls back, tongue licking over a lip to wipe away some stray filling. Crawley makes a sound deep in his chest, watching his Angel's face shift in utter bliss.

For the third bite, Aziraphale simply leans forward and opens his mouth a bit. Crawley's own mouth feels so dry as he treats Aziraphale to the last bite of egg. He feels the brush of lips against his fingers and could melt right there. How something so pure can act this way has him entirely lost. Not to mention aroused. 

"And this? A taste." Crawley picks up the glazed treat, attention having shifted for only a moment. 

Aziraphale smiles at his Demon, watching him shuffle in his seat. The poor dear is clearly bothered, but Aziraphale won't do a thing. This Demon, beautiful as he may be, needs manners before they can have any fun. 

"My dear, you should taste it first." Aziraphale hums.

Crawley doesn't hesitate to bite into the treat, freezing up when something sweet bursts forth. He pulls back with wide eyes, mouth filled with flavor. He can taste the soft, flaky crust of  _ something _ and then there's slime? A warm slime with harder slime bits but it's all so  _ sweet _ . His tongue licks over his lips, gaze focusing hard on the odd treat in hand. 

That focus is shifted when he hears soft laughter beside himself. That warmth consumes him again, making him light headed and weak. He soft groan slips out as he looks the Angel over. 

"You know, I've never seen you eat before." Aziraphale laughs softly, warmth filling the room. "Do you like it, my dear?"

Crawley gives thought to that. Does he  _ like _ eating? The tastes are pleasant enough but the chewing is bothersome. But without chewing he gets no taste. After about ten seconds of thought, mouth still full of unchewed sweetness, he just swallows it. 

"I hate chewing." Crawley states before moving the treat to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale lets out a soft sigh, leaning forward to partake in the sweet. He had been hoping Crawley would indulge with him, that there was a chance to convince Crowley to do the same. But he was mistaken.

"Tell me about yourself, would you? Likes, dislikes, what I can do to make your stay more enjoyable." Aziraphale speaks warmly once he's swallowed a small bite.

His gaze settled back on the Demon and Crawley feels weak again. Influencing him with gluttony, actively indulging in the sin before him, seducing him. That's all this Angel is doing and he isn't even sure if the bastard will follow through. 

"Keep eating." Crawley wants to hit himself for blurting that out.

Instead he gets another soft laugh from Aziraphale. A shiver runs through him as the angle takes his wrist, guiding him to allow for another bite. Crawley squirms at seeing some of the sweetness ooze out around Aziraphale's lips. He holds in a wine as the Principality's tongue makes quick work of drips, the Angel pulling back with a satisfied little sound. 

"Ngk." 

Aziraphale peeps an eye open at the sound, raising a brow at how desperate Crawley looks. His breathing is shallow, his wings are trembling, and his claws are digging into the counter. He looks back to those eyes, those needy eyes. 

"Oh my… I never realized you enjoyed watching me eat so much…" Aziraphale is now thinking back to all the times they'd eaten together.

All the stares, hidden behind glasses. Were his pupils huge then as they are now? Was Crowley barely holding himself back like the demon before him? 

"Pleasssssse." It's more genuine now, though filled with  _ need _ .

Aziraphale looks down at the treat offered yet again. A glance up has him swallowing thickly, the Demon giving him the most pleading expression yet. He leans forward and takes another small bite, this time allowing himself to truly savor it. He hums, he licks his lips, he sits tall and proper. 

Crawley shudders hard at the display, taking in a deep breath through his nose. The smells in the air are intoxicating and he's never seen something so erotic. His tongue flickers and he wants so badly to taste the flesh, to touch, to hold this Angel and keep feeding him. 

"Crawley, I… I admit I'm a bit nervous doing anything sexual with you." Aziraphale begins, keeping his gaze off the demon. "But if you listen to me, we… we can try." 

The treat in Crawley's hand explodes into goop, another highly intelligent sound leaving him. Gluttony? Lust? Oh, he has the full package right here in front of himself! He shudders hard, miracleing the treat back together on the plate below. 

He slips from his seat, stepping closer. He wraps his arms around the Angel and dives into his neck but stops himself. He lets out a low groan of need, not even touching the Principality. His arms ghost around the Angel, his breath hot on a delectable neck.

"Pleasssse… pleassssssssssse." Each breath is a plea, begging for his Angel.

Aziraphale is honestly shocked by the amount of restraint. He turns in his spot to face the demon, guiding his face up. Their eyes meet again, Crawley letting out a soft whine. 

"Before we do anything, I need you to understand me." He begins, trailing a thumb over his love's cheek. "Will you listen?"

"Yesssssss." Crawley hisses, not even caring he's gone against himself so quickly.

Being tempted by an  _ Angel _ can do that to you.

"Good boy. Now, I want you to know that lovemaking is to be enjoyed by the both of us. As such we have words to make sure we are enjoying ourselves." Aziraphale runs his hand into those red locks, watching golden eyes become half lidded.

"Green means you are enjoying yourself. Yellow, we need to stop and talk, we can go back to fun once we are both back to feeling green." And then his voice gets serious, the petting coming to a stop. "If either of us says Red, we both stop immediately. We see who is hurt, why we are hurt be it emotionally or physically. And we help whoever is feeling this way back to green. We do  _ not _ press them for more lovemaking. We allow them time to heal. Do you understand?"

Crawley gives a nod, Aziraphale going back to stroking through hair. 

"Then tell me what they mean." 

Crawley licks his lips, shivering as he thinks over what they can do. 

"Green means we like it. We don't stop." Crawley is finding it difficult to speak. "Yellow, we stop. But we can go again. But only if we want to. And Red… ends everything…" 

Oh he did  _ not _ want Red to happen. He wanted to ravage this Angel, make them scream, make them  _ beg _ . That is where they belong, beneath him and begging for more. 

"Mm… now, what is Red for you?" Aziraphale asks, idly curling some hair around a finger. 

Crawley furrows his brows. Red for him? What could this Angel do to him to make it want to stop? Was there even anything? 

"For me, I can only take so much roughness. Biting is green but it becomes yellow or even red when blood is drawn." Aziraphale elaborates.

Crawley gives a small nod, making a mental note to dull his teeth for the Angel. 

"I don't know…" Crawley finally breathes.

He looks away from his Angel, knowing he's failed. The Principality won't touch him now, he doesn't  _ have _ anything to add. 

"Everything you can do to me is green, Angel." Crawley murmurs.

Aziraphale's own breath hitches. The absolute devotion Crawley has, the  _ faith _ Aziraphale will not hurt him or bring him anything but pleasure- it's incredible. But even so.

"Crawley, you can say yellow or red anytime you feel. Even outside the bedroom. Like now, how do you feel?"

"Yellow." 

Aziraphale frowns, hand stilling in that hair. 

"And why?" He didn't mean for this to make him so uncomfortable.

Crawley remains silent, though he does lean into Aziraphale's touch. The Angel returns to petting through hair, allowing his love time to think. 

"It'sss too new… Makess me think I'll…" Crawley trails off, averting his gaze. "Lossse… lossse the warm…" 

_ Lose the warm _ ? Aziraphale can't help but repeat those words in his head.

"Messss up again… losssse it again…" Crawley adds, shutting his eyes now.

Aziraphale is beyond confused. Mess up again? Lose the warm? What even  _ is _ the warm? 

"I don't understand. What, how would you mess up? And what is the warm?" Aziraphale leans forward and kisses Crawley on the forehead.

The Demon lets out a low whine as he tries to form this into words. It almost hurts, he  _ knows _ it is impossible and yet he can feel it so strongly! 

"I lossst Her love…" Crawley's voice is too quiet now, tears bubbling up again.

Aziraphale pets through his hair, thinking hard on this. Yes, Crawley would have just fallen. Of course he would still be feeling that pain. But where did Her love come into this? 

"Your love isss jusst as warm…" Crawley finally adds, eyes shutting tightly now. "It hurtsss. The fire hurtssss… but the warm ssstops it. Ssstopsss the fire…" 

He swallows thickly, tears streaming down his face now. 

"Red."

Aziraphale wraps his arms around Crawley, petting down his back and kissing the top of his head. He murmurs soft things to him, that everything will be okay. He is loved, Aziraphale is here, nothing will happen to him. He isn't alone. 

And all of this, these kind words, have the Demon clinging hard to his Angel. His wings curl around to capture them both in darkness, Crawley downright sobbing now. He didn't  _ mean _ to fall! He was just asking questions! He was  _ curious _ ! 

And here this Angel was, one committing so many sins before him, one who has not fallen and feels so  _ pure _ . What did he do wrong? How could he have messed up so badly? He misses it, he misses the warmth so badly, but this new one is just as good if not  _ better _ . And this warmth comes with an actual being, someone to truly comfort and love him how love was meant to be shown.

"I have you, my dearest. I love you. I love you as much as I love Her." Aziraphale speaks softly, warmly. "I cast aside Heaven for you, I have done countless temptations for you, I have grown to love you so very much. There is nothing you can do for this to stop- for my love to end." 

Crawley chokes on another sob, the words sounding so sickeningly true. He can feel it too, taste it, smell it, it's everywhere. He shudders out a breath, slowly stealing a peep at those blue eyes.

"I have you, Crawley. I have you and I will never let you go." Aziraphale's words cause newfound pain in Crawley.

Does he even deserve this? This mad Angel giving him so much love, filling him with warmth, making Hell leave him alone. 

"I love you and I will  _ always _ love you." 

Crawley lets out a shuddering breath, burying his face back in the Angel's chest. Could he allow this? This trust? Aziraphale could so easily take the warmth away, leave him to wallow and burn in the fires of hell, but those words are so strong. Against his better judgement, against everything that happened to him with Her, he finds himself filled with hope. 

"L… love you too…" the word stings his tongue, but he doesn't care. He takes a breath. "I  _ love _ you."

He can feel a bit of blood on his tongue now, the word filled with everything he has. What little it is, he can only hope the Angel accepts it. And he does. 

"Oh, Crawley…" Aziraphale can feel tears pricking his own eyes now.

Yes, there has always been the grumbled affirmation of love, Crowley always beating around the bush. He's always wanted to hear this, to hear his everything finally get the words out. He holds Crawley tighter now, his own breathing becoming uneven. 

"You h-have no idea how much I've always w-wanted to hear that." He's doing his best to keep his voice even but he's failing.

Crawley hisses when he feels a holy tear drip onto his head. It sizzles for a moment, though only causing a minor inconvenience. Still, he clings to his Angel, unwilling to let go of his love.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemme just shift into high gear on angst...

It takes time before the both of them calm down yet again. Aziraphale had been expecting a wily thing, someone that would be entirely rude and, well,  _ demonic.  _ Instead he'd been shown a side of Crowley, of Crawley, that he could have never known about. Perhaps Hell hardened him over time, attempting to squash out those feelings.

But here? Now? Crawley didn't have that long life of pain. All he had was the fall, the garden, and an Angel that would do anything to keep him safe.

Crawley is the first to shift in their embrace. He pulls his head away from Aziraphale's chest, letting out a shuddering breath. His wings remain coiled around them both as he pulls back enough to look Aziraphale in the eyes. 

Golden streaks glitter down from them, little trails of dried holy tears. He knows his own resemble the blood of humans, but he's forgotten about what an Angel's looks like. Aziraphale sniffles as a hand touches his face. The thumb smoothes sweetly over a trail of tears, Crawley ignoring the very minor pain. 

"Angel… Please…?" Crawley asks, his voice all too gentle.

Aziraphale looks down into those eyes, to the trails of red leading down his love's face. And then he's closer, their lips almost touching. Aziraphale takes in a soft breath. A satisfied sound almost like a purr slips from Crawley as their lips connect. 

He pulls his Angel closer, wings tightening their hug. Aziraphale has to pull away after a bit, face and body becoming far too warm now. And Crawley can sense it, the  _ lust  _ filling his Angel. So he likes being held tight, at the mercy of a Demon that cannot harm him. 

"Crawley, I need a moment." Aziraphale breathes.

Crawley can only hum, moving in to nuzzle Aziraphale's neck. He can feel the Angel shiver, the hands around him tightening. He refrains from using his tongue, his teeth, any of the truly fun bits. His Angel needs time to think and Crowley, well, he's positive a bit of nuzzling will coax his love into what they both desire.

"Can I assssk your color, Angel?" Crawley whispers, moving up to breathe warmth over an ear. 

Aziraphale's eyes close. He swallows thickly, not sure if they should even be doing this. But Aziraphale is comfortable. He feels warm, loved, like he's the center of Crawley's entire world. And he's always felt like the center, Crowley putting forth so much effort for him. And now Crawley, a demon who's hurt is so fresh, who is supposed to be the most impure of them all, is being so sweet to him. 

"Green." He relents.

"Will it ssssstay green if I touch you?" Crawley has a seriousness in his voice now, one that has Aziraphale letting out a soft sound of  _ need _ .

"Yes, please do." Aziraphale's voice is higher than usual, the need slipping through plain as day.

Crawley buries his face in Aziraphale's neck, deeply inhaling his Angel's sweet scent. A soft moan fills the room as his tongue tastes the flesh. 

"You're sssweet again…" Crawley murmurs.

Aziraphale shivers as he feels Crawley begin marking his neck, gently sucking on him. He shuts his eyes as he lets the bliss take over. Crawley might be a unique (he can't use strange) version of Crowley but the love  _ is _ there. He feels it so strongly. 

He lets out a soft sigh when teeth trail down his neck. Sharp, all too dangerous. But in the place of fear there is only a wild thrill. As of late Crowley has been far more dominant than usual and Aziraphale, well, as much as he enjoys being tops he can't resist a good time. 

A soft cry has Crawley smirking around the flesh in his mouth. His teeth turned dull the moment they clamped down, the demon remembering what his Angel had said. He laves his tongue over the mark, Aziraphale gripping hard at his robes. 

"C-Crawley, if we, are we-?" Aziraphale can only stammer, nerves beginning to get the better of him. 

Crawley can sense the slight souring and moves back to soft nuzzles. He kisses from Aziraphale's neck all the way up to his ear for a small nip. 

"What the Angel wantsss the angel getsss…" Crawley all but purrs. 

Aziraphale bites his bottom lip at that, eyes scrunching shut. Crawley  _ wants _ him and he can feel the love! Why is he being so hesitant? His mind is swarmed with thoughts of "is this really my Crowley?" and "would he be upset?". 

"I-I want Crowley." He finally relents, burying his face in Crawley's chest. 

Crawley can only stare down at him, head tilting a smidge. He runs his hands down the Angel's back, wings lessening their hold. He can understand why this Angel wants his demon, his lover. Such a strange concept, for a Demon to love, yet here he is with an Angel so deeply in love with one. 

And that same love is preventing him from doing so much. Oddly enough, he doesn't feel pain from it. When he does something the Angel likes he can only feel more of that warmth, the flames almost gone. It's like a sick tease. He knows the flames will never go away and yet if he keeps doing things for this Angel, they feel as though they might disappear entirely. 

Crawley's expression goes unreadable as Aziraphale babbles into his robe. He isn't even listening to the other as he tries to pour his heart out with apologies, with trying to understand  _ who _ or  _ what _ Crawley is. He catches a few things, enough to get the gist that this Angel is uncomfortable bedding someone that isn't his "husband".

"Angel." Crawley's voice lacks emotion. 

Aziraphale looks up at him, brows knit together in concern. He doesn't like the neutral expression on Crawley's face and that tone was even worse. 

"Crowley will return soon enough. Until then I have taken his place. I retain his  _ love _ for you." The word still pains his tongue but he ignores it. "Your… happiness is my concern." 

Oh how he's been drawn in on that  _ love _ like an addict to their fix. And he's only gotten a taste so far. 

Aziraphale sniffles and wipes his eyes, sitting back. His face feels warm, his heart beating all too fast. Crawley, is he truly acting as a Demon should? Is this him trying to lie? To tempt? Or does he really feel this way. Crowley would never say something so blatantly  _ good _ . 

He lets out a shuddering sigh, finally getting a glance out of those wings. His eyes widen at seeing that sometime during that bout of fun Crawley had miracled them back on the bed. He slowly scans the room over before his attention returns to his unreadable Crawley, a bit of fear in him now.

"My- My happiness…?" Aziraphale repeats. He had to have misheard.

Crawley's wings slowly slip from around Aziraphale, leaving the angel feeling all too cold now. They tuck behind his back as he crosses his legs, getting in a more comfortable position. 

"Yes. Your happiness drives away the hellfire within me." Crawley states, forcing himself to numb his emotions. 

Aziraphale gives a small nod, pulling his knees up to his chest. He  _ wants _ to cuddle and touch and make love but this isn't his husband? He doesn't know what he can trust. And Crawley seemed hell-bent upon getting in his pants from the start.

"And right now, I'm burning up." Crawley adds, having felt the flames slowly grow with the Angel's mood shift.

Aziraphale's eyes widen at this bit of information, worry consuming him. But is that even possible? Could an Angel's love really be strong enough to shove away a the fires of Hell? He can see discomfort on Crawley's face, the slight shifts he knows oh so well. And he's even breathing through his teeth…

"Is it because I'm not comfortable having sex with you?" Aziraphale suddenly asks.

Crawley actually cracks a grin at this, the absurdity of it. The pleasures of the flesh are enjoyable but nowhere near pure enough to drive away the fire within him. 

"No. You are displeased with me. You should be." Crawley's grin slips down into a grimace. "I have wanted nothing more than to corrupt you into doing my bidding and am unable to do so. Your  _ affections _ are more of a narcotic, one I have quickly grown addicted to."

Aziraphale honestly isn't sure how he feels about this. Is Crawley being honest? And why is he only thinking about this  _ now _ ?! Why not when he threw that mug or tried to- 

He shudders at remembering the near assault from before, hugging himself tighter. He shuts his eyes and lets out a slow breath.

"How… how do I know if anything you're saying is true? Crowley would never- he's never even said he loves me!" Aziraphale feels more tears well up as his voice cracks.

Crawley lets out a slow breath, feeling that fire intensify. Oh, this Angel is most definitely going to love him one way or another now. He can continue trying the gentle way or try a more daring one. Perhaps it's best to play it safe for now. 

"Does he?" Crawley asks, beginning to examine his claws. 

Aziraphale wipes his face, glancing up at the seemingly bored demon. 

"Does he what?" Aziraphale repeats, doing his best to try and keep his emotions in check. 

" _ Love _ you." Crawley states before spreading a wing out before himself to gently smooth over the flesh.

Aziraphale feels a sharp pain in his corporation's heart at that. Of course Crowley loves him! He's just bad at saying it. But he can show it so well! 

"Of course he does!" Aziraphale quiets himself and tries again. "Of- of course he does… he loves me and I love him." 

Crawley hums as he smooths down his wing, trailing his blunted talons up to give a nice scratch. His other wing shivers at the feeling, the demon having no shame in preening himself. 

"And your thoughts for me?" Crawley pries, golden eyes locking onto Aziraphale's own.

Aziraphale furrows his brows and bites his bottom lip. 

"Hate. Hate should be the emotion, Angel. Of all Her creations, Demons are to be hated." Crawley's voice slips to a dangerous hiss. "We are misssstakessssss."

"But I don't hate you! I- I just, I don't know you! And if I- maybe we," Aziraphale's stammering has Crawley giving a soft, almost sad chuckle of amusement.

The Angel goes silent as the demon spreads both wings wide, back arching. He swallows thickly as he takes in Crawley's unique beauty. Even if demons are supposed to be vile and disgusting Crawley has remained elegant and beautiful in his own way. A true work of art. 

"How can a mistake be so beautiful, my dear…?" Aziraphale's voice is all too soft.

Crawley's wings shut in an instant, clinging to his back. 

"I am  _ not  _ beautiful." Crawley snaps, feeling a warmth on his face now.

Aziraphale keeps his distance but begins to truly take in the demon before himself. The same face, same hair, same body type. And he's wearing the same robes from the garden? Only… tattered now. 

"But you are…" Aziraphale pushes.

Crawley can feel that fire beginning to die down again and grits his teeth. He doesn't want to do this, he's already demeaned himself enough with Angel! But if he submits, if he allows this Angel whatever he wants, the fire will go away. It's a tempting offer. 

"Liessss." Crawley's hiss is weak, his thoughts slipping back to what he feels, what he  _ needs _ .

Why is he to be humiliated like this? At the mercy of an Angel, trapped and forced to be what he is not. He takes in a slow breath through his teeth, entirely missing whatever Aziraphale has been saying. Probably some fighting words, insisting he's  _ beautiful _ . 

He bares his teeth to the Angel, letting out a frustrated growl that slips to a hiss. Aziraphale shuts up immediately, eyes going wide. 

"You ssssicken me." Crawley hisses as he slowly lies on his front.

He shuts his eyes as he settles down, face mere inches away from Aziraphale feet. He rests his arms beneath his head, wings slowly splaying out. He refuses to look at the Angel who's breathing stopped some time ago. 

"Ssstupid Angel…" Crawley grumbles, a bit of venom in his voice. "Loving me." 

Crawley relaxes into his arms. He can hear the Angel breathing again, the small tremors on the bed. He knows Aziraphale is thinking, trying to figure out things for himself. Crawley knows he can only wait and see. The less he demeans himself the better. 

"It's not stupid…" Aziraphale whispers, a hand ghosting over Crawley's hair.

Crawley scoffs, though his sour mood shifts as he feels a hand slip through his hair. He moves into the touch, ignoring his inner turmoil of being a  _ pet _ . 

"Love issss sssstupid…" His hiss goes soft as that hand runs back through his hair.

"No it isn't… Crawley, how… How can I make the fire go away?" Aziraphale is internally cursing himself and hoping- no- praying that Crawley is being honest with him. 

"You know how." Crawley murmurs.

He shifts closer now, head tilting to guide Aziraphale to pet him how he wants. The Angel swallows thickly, knowing that now he has to make a decision. 

He can either play into this. He can give Crawley affections and attentions, show him everything good in the world- er in the flat- or he can reject this. He can abandon the demon, leaving him alone to his own devices. Trapped, bored out of his wits, but safe to the world. 

Aziraphale lets out a shuddering breath as he looks Crawley over. He looks almost peaceful, leaning into those touches and acting so nicely. He wants to run his hands over those wings, to explore Crawley's body, but he knows better. He closes his eyes, hand stilling. 

"Mmm?" Crawley's soft hum is accompanied by him shifting into that hand a bit, wanting more. 

"Crawley. I… I'm giving you one chance." Aziraphale begins, taking in a slow breath.

Crawley peeps an eye open, head tilting to the side so he can properly look at his Angel.

"One chance for… I… if.." he shuts his eyes, unable to look at Crawley's while he's trying to talk. Another breath and he tries again, looking the demon in both eyes now. "If you try to hurt me, if you try to hurt anyone or if you do hurt someone, I… I'm leaving you alone. I'm going home and- and not coming back until Crowley is back." 

Crawley only stares at Aziraphale. Slowly, oh so slowly, he rises from the bed onto his hands. He keeps eye contact as he moves until his chin rests upon the Angel's lap. 

"Issss there anything elsssse I should know, Angel? I will lisssten…" Crawley keeps eye contact as best he can but Aziraphale leans away from him.

Aziraphale furrows his brows, looking the demon over before averting his gaze. One chance. That's all he's giving. Just one. 

"T-Tell me what you want… and… and be nice…" Aziraphale honestly isn't sure what else he can say and it shows in his voice. "Listen to me?"

Crawley rolls his eyes before lowering himself back onto the bed. He nuzzles down into his arms, wings curling back up. 

"Fine." Crawley relents.

"You… you'll be nice?"

"Yesssssss."

"Really?"

"Yesss."

Aziraphale can't believe that. Even Crowley would never agree to be  _ nice _ . He's actually quite offended by the word. But one chance is one chance and he is an Angel of his word. 

"Angel?" Crawley hums, Aziraphale looking back down to him. Their eyes meet and Crawley has to look away, an annoyed expression on his face. "Touch me pleassse…" 

Aziraphale lets out a soft breath and moves to sit more comfortably. He scoots closer, guiding Crawley up and onto his lap. The Demon lets out a long rumbling sigh of bliss as a hand trails down his hair to mid back. 

_ I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't let him touch me like this. I'm not a pet nor a slave.  _

Crawley huffs at his internal thoughts. He knows what he is and what he isn't. And he is most definitely not an Angel's pet. Now, Crowley? Most definitely. Crawley on the other hand, though his emotions are mixed, he definitely has freedom. He can escape the Angel, run from him, even make the Holy being go away. 

But why would he?

"My dear, I hope this works out for us…" Aziraphale speaks softly, warmly. 

"What'sss your color, Angel?" Crawley huffs.

If he has to be  _ nice _ he'll at least do things to get Aziraphale to like him more. And that simple question warms Aziraphale's heart, causing the fire in Crawley to die down quite a bit. He sighs out in bliss, wings flaring out yet again. 

"Green. Yours?" 

"Very Green." Crawley mumbles, muffled against Aziraphale's belly.

Aziraphale continues to gently pet through that hair, using both hands now. Before long he's started to work an elaborate braid into it. Crawley just lets it happen, any and all gentle touches welcome. 

Once the braid is done Aziraphale miracles a little scrunchie. Crawley huffs as he's guided up to a sitting position, Aziraphale giving him a warm, unsure smile. Crawley pulls his hair around to examine the braid, a brow raising. 

"Interesssting…" Crawley murmurs, pushing his hair back over his shoulder. 

His attention returns to Aziraphale who hasn't stopped eyeballing his wings since he'd groomed himself. Which is something he should probably get back to. 

Crawley spreads his ungroomed wing out and begins to run his fingers soothingly down the membrane. His other wing trembles a bit as he trails blunt talons back up, the sensation sinfully blissful. And that thought has him going back to his Angel refusing to allow his own wings to be touched. 

"Doess he touch them? Crowley?" Crawley asks, continuing his work. 

Aziraphale's mouth feels all too dry. He snaps out of it at the question and furrows his brows, face heating up. 

"Yes, of course! Do.. do demons groom each other…?" Aziraphale has curiosity in his voice, causing Crawley to grin.

"If ripping out feathers is grooming, then yess. We keep to ourselves." 

Crawley releases his wing and lets it give a little shake before reaching behind himself to try and smooth down what he can reach. Oh, to be as flexible as a snake in this form! 

"Oh…" 

Crawley rolls his eyes at the soft sound, struggling to reach his wings as best he can. There's always spots he can't quite reach and they're  _ itchy _ after he grooms the rest. 

_ Would he help me? _ Crawley thinks to himself.  _ If he does I'll melt. _

"Do you need assistance…?" Aziraphale's voice is uncertain.

Crawley lets out a loud groan as he flops down on the bed, spreading his wings wide. 

"Yesss." 

Aziraphale can't help but feel awkward at the situation. His own wings are highly sensitive and they have  _ feathers _ . This is  _ flesh _ ! And Crawley seemed to really be enjoying his own touches. He slowly moves forward, a hand petting down Crawley's back.

"Wingsss, Angel." Crawley near whines.

Aziraphale's face feels like it's on fire as he moves a hand to smooth down a wing. His eyes widen at the feeling of it. Entirely smooth, warm, with a bit of give if he presses down on the membrane. He feels the wing shift away and tenses, only to realize Crowley is settling down on the bed. 

He gets back to work, not really sure how to groom these wings. But it looked like Crowley was just smoothing over them, petting and scritching them. Oh, would he like that too? Aziraphale ran his hand down the length of a wing before trailing manicured nails gently up the length of it. 

Crawley had to grit his teeth to keep from moaning, his free wing trembling in absolute bliss. He hides his face in an arm, feeling his resolve melting as that scratching continues up and up until it reaches rarely touched wing. 

Aziraphale freezes up when the demon lets out a loud moan, body giving a harsh shudder. He gasps for air, letting out a trembling breath. 

"I should stop…"

"No! No, please, Angel, pleasssssse, I'll be good. Keep touching me. Pleasssse.  _ Pleassssse _ ." Crawley wants to rip his own tongue out as he began but he can't stop himself. 

Aziraphale's face must be as red as an apple from hearing Crawley  _ beg _ for him. He isn't even making love, it's just  _ grooming _ ! Yes, it feels nice, but it doesn't call for  _ that _ . 

"I… I don't think I should do this…" Aziraphale murmurs.

Crawley lets out a groan that melts into a loud whine, wings snapping away from Aziraphale. The Angel tenses as the Demon sits tall before him, expression one of, what Aziraphale thinks is, muted rage. 

Luckily the Demon, instead of taking his aggression out on Aziraphale, slips off the bed and leaves the bedroom. Aziraphale snaps out of it when the door shuts, quickly following after Crawley. He catches sight of the other disappearing into the plant room, a loud click signaling that someone's going to be in there for quite some time. 

Aziraphale frowns and looks anywhere but at the room, mind going wild. He feels horrible for leading Crawley on like this, but he doesn't know what to do. He can't just sleep with someone that isn't Crowley! Even if that someone is in Crowley's body and keeps saying they are him before everything… 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moar nonsense.

Aziraphale couldn't help but find himself slipping from the flat. He needed some fresh air, to get away from Crawley. He needed to  _ think _ . And the best place to do that should be a long walk with some snacks involved. 

And that's how the Angel found himself sitting alone in one of their most frequented Cafe's. He ordered his usual, something small and sweet along with his favorite drink. He found his gaze drifting out the window, thinking hard on life and what he should do about Crawley. 

"Is Mr.Crowley out of town?" A young server asks.

Aziraphale sighs and turns towards the young man. Such a nice chap. 

"No, he's at home." Aziraphale's voice tried to be chipper but he was failing miserably. 

The server glances around the cafe before frowning and looking back to Aziraphale. 

"Need to talk? It's usually really slow about now…" The server has concern in his voice.

Aziraphale gives the young man a soft smile. Tim, as his nameplate said, has always been such a nice person. He seemed entirely too happy when he spotted rings on Aziraphale and Crowley's hands. A bit nosy, but it was a warm kind of nosy. He seemed very happy for them. 

And, as lovely as the offer to talk was, he probably shouldn't say much. But, perhaps he could translate it? Yes, that could work. 

"It would be nice to talk to someone…" Aziraphale relents.

As he takes a sip of his drink the server sits down across from him, folding his fingers together. He can only hope the young man doesn't get in trouble for this. 

"So, relationship issues?" Tim asks.

Aziraphale gives a small nod and looks down at his hands. How to translate… 

"He bumped his head and when I brought him to the doctor he had something called amnesia." Aziraphale began, trying to think back on some of the stories he's read over the years. "He doesn't remember me- or anyone. But he still loves me? I don't… it doesn't feel right, though." 

The server clicked his tongue at that. He was not expecting quite a doozy of a story. But, Mr.Fell and Mr.Crowley were quite a pair. He's overheard quite a few stories. Two very active larpers or perhaps reenactors. Either way, the stories are incredible to overhear. 

"Will he get better?" Tim sounds quite concerned now.

"Oh, yes, in time he will. The doctor assured me. But until then I feel like I'm living with…" Aziraphale trails off as he tries to find the word.

"A stranger?" 

_ More or less the most moody demon I have ever met.  _

"Yes." 

Tim sighs and glances over to the front door when he hears a ding- ah they left. Wonderful. His attention returns to Aziraphale and the man looks horrible to say the least. 

"So you needed to get away from the stranger and think…" Tim muses aloud.

Aziraphale nods and sips his drink, gaze returning to the window. He really should return to Crowley's flat soon. He threatened this some time ago but this was more for his own sanity than anything. The Demon was driving him insane. 

"So, he loves you. Is it a weird creepy love or is it nice?" Tim doesn't want to pry too much but he is curious. 

"He's… difficult." Aziraphale thinks aloud, looking down at his drink. "He's, what's the phrase you used once? Emotionally… what was the word?"

"Constipated." 

"Exactly. But even moreso! I tried to care for him but he refused anything I offered. Then some time later he demanded it from me and I- I just don't know what to do." Aziraphale lets out a long sigh and shakes his head. "I love him dearly but this isn't the De-ear I fell in love with. He's even calling himself by a different name." 

Tim nods a bit in understanding. He could've sworn Crowley put off a few vibes, maybe being gender fluid? Trans? But going by a dead name, definitely trans. 

"I'm sorry to hear that. May I give some advice, Mr.Fell?" Tim knows it isn't his place but he can't help it. 

Aziraphale looks to the young man, getting a soft smile in return. 

"Yes, please." Aziraphale sounds so exhausted now.

"Well, he's your husband. So, you love him. And maybe not everything is gone? He still loves you back so that's good. Mr.Crowley always seems mad or tired with the world so maybe he got better with age? If I were you I'd go home with his favorite food or drink and try to rekindle things… uh… give him a chance, younger him a chance." Tim finishes up just as the bell above the door rings again.

He glances over and sighs. 

"Tell me if things get better. You're my favorite customers." With that and a soft smile Tim leaves Aziraphale alone.

Aziraphale lets out a long sigh once the human is gone, gaze shifting down to his drink. He needs to get Crowley's favorite wine, his favorite whiskey even. They need to talk, to be calm with one another. And he oh so badly wants to understand this Demon. If Crawley truly is the younger version of Crowley, mind you infused with some Hellish power, then things shouldn't be too different. 

__________

Crawley has been preening his own wings for what feels like an eternity. He can't get to those sensitive spots Aziraphale had touched. He can't touch himself in such a blissful way. Every single time the Angel lays a hand upon him he feels so much  _ warmth _ from it. He isn't even aroused! But those hands have the power to stun him, make him melt, turn him into nothing more than a moaning mess. 

He slows in his grooming as the Angel's holiness seems to fade from the flat. His eyes widen and he bolts for the door. He rips it open, dashing down the hall to the front door. He reaches for it only to curse when his hand slams into an invisible wall. He hisses and draws his hand back, breathing picking up as he feels his Angel fade more and more. 

He lets out a shuddering breath, taking a few steps away. 

_ No _ .

He can't be alone now. The Angel said he would give one chance! He didn't hurt him! He didn't hurt anyone! He was  _ nice _ ! He ran off to preen himself instead of forcing the Angel to do it and now he's suffering for it. 

Crawley's wings give a small flutter as he slowly lowers himself to the ground. His gaze never leaves the door as he deflates. His wings droop, he can feel tears in his eyes, and that fire is returning with a vengeance. Even with his insides turning to a horrid char he has never felt so cold. 

"Angel…" 

__________

  
  


In the time it takes for Aziraphale to find enough wine and hard liquors the sun has already started coming up again. He miracles the door open, sensing a massive wave of demonic energy when he steps through. At least Crawley hasn't escaped. 

He walks to the kitchen, putting down the assortment of alcohols. He miracles away the mess from earlier- yesterday. Old food really shouldn't be made fresh again. It never tastes right. 

As he sorts through the wines and liquors he hears the click of talons against the floor. He shuts his eyes, taking in a long, deep breath to ready himself for whatever Crawley has in store for him. Screaming is to be expected, perhaps thrown things. He's even prepared to miracle himself to the shop. 

What he isn't prepared for is what greets him. The clicking comes to a stop, fabric shuffling until all is quiet again. Aziraphale gives a silent plea for strength before turning to the Demon. His breath hitches at seeing Crawley sitting on the floor, head bowed and gaze to the side. His wings are low though they don't curl around him. 

"Crawley? Wh-What are you doing? Why are you on the floor?" Aziraphale finds his voice though he doesn't find the courage to step forward. 

"I submit." Crawley relents, shutting his eyes. 

In the time he'd been alone, in the time that fire began to consume him again, he had more than enough fuel to think. He is trapped, entirely at the mercy of an Angel. An Angel that's toying with him, controlling him. But an Angel that makes the pain go away. He has been unable to do anything evil, any corruptions or temptations. The flames grew and grew until he couldn't take it anymore. 

His thoughts had all boiled down to the Angel, to a smiling face that hid a true bastard of a being. But anything was better than this. 

"Submit?" Aziraphale repeats, his voice laced in concern. 

Crawley lets his wings lower more, curling up over the floor now. It can't be comfortable. 

"I submit to you, Angel. I will do whatever you ask. Anything. Don't leave me again. Please" Crawley's voice is soft, not an ounce of venom within. 

Aziraphale feels a horrible guilt beginning to consume him. He did this. He abandoned his love, he  _ abandoned _ his husband. All because he wasn't strong enough. He wasn't patient enough. And now Crawley is acting all wrong! He shouldn't be doing this! He shouldn't be on the floor, showing some sort of  _ submissive _ display! He should be-! He should-! Anything but  _ that! _

"No…. Nonono, Crawley, I didn't mean to- I didn't want to hurt you!" Aziraphale cries out.

_ The Angel is far worse at lying than I could have ever imagined. _

Crawley's eyes remain shut as he feels arms slip around him, pulling him close. He doesn't even tense at the small miracle that sends them back to the bedroom. He lets Aziraphale babble to him, false apologies and meaningless words. All Crawley cares about is the fire within himself, a fire that is slowly dying down. 

As the Angel continues trying to soothe, trying his best to apologise, Crawley finally leans into him. His hands hover before gently taking hold of Aziraphale's coat. He lets out a soft sigh of relief as the pain gets to a manageable level, replaced by that bubbling warmth. 

"I won't leave again, I promise." Aziraphale whispers, having been peppering Crawley's head with kisses.

_ You will if I disobey. _

Crawley shivers at his own thought, gripping the coat more tightly now. He can smell that sweetness from the Angel, the scent making him sick now. It's all a lie, something to condition him into being a good pet. But now he's learned his place. All it took was a proper punishment; hours of absolute agony, one's insides charring and flames slipping from every breath to burn whatever sensitive flesh it could touch. His Angel was an expert at this it seemed.

"I brought your favorite wine home. I-I wanted to try and talk to you, to try and make things right." Aziraphale speaks softly, petting down his Demon's back. 

_ Treat me for being obedient? Anything to forget this humiliation. _

"Will you try it for me?" Aziraphale's voice is but a whisper now. 

"Yes." Is the simple reply, nothing more than a breath. 

Aziraphale kisses Crawley on the head one last time before disentangling from that embrace. Crawley doesn't resist, allowing Aziraphale to slip away as he pleases. He does give a glance as the Angel slips away, expecting the warmth to leave with him. Thankfully it remains the same, quelling that harsh flame into little more than a mild ember. 

_ Hell lost didn't it? He has Crowley trained too, I bet. Far more obedient than me. I should leave something for him, a note. When I come out again I will do my best to free us both, all he needs to do is prevent the circle from forming. Yes… _

Crawley glances up when he hears the door open. Aziraphale slips inside with two glasses of what is supposedly his favorite wine. He watches the Angel sit down before him, offering out a glass. Crawley slowly takes it, watching Aziraphale very closely now. 

He can't help but wonder, and so he dips a finger into the liquid. When it fails to burn him he pops said finger into his mouth. 

"It's good, try it." Aziraphale urges. 

Crawley looks from the Angel to his drink before bringing it to his lips. His eyes close and he prepares for whatever abomination is about to enter his body. The liquid hits his tongue and his mouth is filled with one of the most delicious flavors he's ever had. He lowers the glass after his first sip, brows furrowed as he looks it over.

_ Not holy water. Poisoned? No, he wouldn't hurt me? Physically? Oh, it could definitely be poisoned. But he's drinking it too? _

"This is another favorite of yours." Aziraphale hums, offering out the other glass. 

Crawley slowly takes it, Aziraphale taking back the first wine. He rules out poison when the Angel takes a sip from it, taking a small sample of the new one. And oh, this one is  _ bitter _ . But it's strange. It bites into his tongue but when it goes down the taste makes up for it. 

"Do you like it?" Aziraphale asks, miracleing both bottles onto the nightstand. 

Crawley glances to them then back to his Angel. 

"Yes. I do."  _ Be polite _ his inner voice scolds  _ you don't want him to disappear again.  _ "Thank you." 

Aziraphale smiles warmly at that, hoping a good bit of drinking will liven up his Demon. 

"My dear, what is your color?" Aziraphale asks, truly curious. 

"Green."

_ Red. _

"Good! I'm green as well, and hopefully we stay green through the rest of your time here." Aziraphale's chipper voice only adds to Crawley's misery.

  
  


He has a feeling these next few days are going to be far worse than Hell ever was.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crawley stop being an idiot and accept your husband is a moron! Love him like he loves you!
> 
> Or y'know... Continue to think this way and be a good little Demon :3c


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fuck is plot?

Drinks had been filled and emptied just as fast as they could be poured. By the time the first bottle was gone Crawley finally started feeling the slightest of a buzz. Thankfully the Angel had quite a bit more alcohol. By the time the second wine bottle was gone and a considerable amount of liquor, Crawley was little more than a lump on the bed. 

His wings were splayed out, face buried in the sheets. Beside him Aziraphale had been blabbering about some nonsense he didn't much care for nor understand. He didn't have Crowley's memories and for that he was thankful. 

"Maybe is good to stop here?" Aziraphale slurred, putting his empty glass down.

Crawley only grunted in response, sighing out when a hand ran through his hair. And then it was trailing down his neck and back, Aziraphale moving closer and almost lying on him now. It was a bit awkward having the Angel snuggled up to him but the warmth from it kept Crawley from complaining. 

"Nngh…" 

"You're so beautiful like this, my dear…" Aziraphale murmurs, gently brushing some hair from Crawley's face.

The demon opens his eyes, pupils shrinking at the light. He stares blankly at his Angel, wanting nothing more than to slip away and get closer all the same. He needs freedom, he needs whatever this Angel has, but he  _ needs _ to be doing his job. Even with a muddled mind he can't help but feel like an absolute waste. 

"So… so pretty… I love your long hair…" Aziraphale muses as he gently strokes through some.

He cups the Demon's cheek, never breaking eye contact. Crawley can do little more than stare into those bright eyes. 

"Your nose is cute too…" Aziraphale boops him gently on it, a warm smile across his lips.

Crawley actually inches back at the touch. He doesn't like his face being touched like that, especially his nose. Aziraphale pets his cheek again and moves in for an upside down kiss. It's sloppy but gentle, the Angel pulling away after a few seconds. 

Crawley's tongue runs over his lips, taking in that sweetness. His internal monologue consists of the need to escape and the need to ravage his owner. This Angel is the worst drug he has ever experienced and nothing could compare. 

"You've been so quiet, my dear…" Aziraphale murmurs, running a thumb over Crawley's cheek.

Crawley's pupils dilate slightly before he looks away. He shrinks into himself, wings curling in the slightest bit. Aziraphale tuts him, petting through his hair some more. 

"Shhh… I have you…" Aziraphale kisses him on the cheek and shuts his eyes.

Crawley shuts his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath, turning his head away from the Angel. His wings curl tight on his back. He  _ wants _ to be here but he  _ needs _ to be free. He can't. He  _ can't _ .

Aziraphale hums when he feels Crawley slip from the bed. He looks up as the demon stumbles, wings fanning out to help with balance. He sits up, watching Crawley dig his claws into the nearby wall for support. His wings slowly curl back up, his gaze shifting to the Angel. 

"Careful, my dear." Aziraphale hums, tempted to sober up. 

Crawley shivers at the tone, grip tightening on the wall. He  _ needs _ to be free but he  _ wants _ to please this Angel so badly. It feels  _ good _ to please him, absolutely euphoric. 

His gaze shifts to the bottles as they begin to refill. Aziraphale gives a harsh shudder before he's sitting prim and proper on the bed, eyeing his scared love. 

"Crawley, what's the matter?" The clear voice has Crawley shrinking into himself even more. 

He shivers in his spot, fear written plain as day on his face. Aziraphale can't help but be reminded of the demon cowering in the library. He lets out a soft sigh, gaze lowering to the bed. He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what he  _ should _ do. And what had Crawley said before? He submitted? What does that even mean?

"Your color, my dear?" Aziraphale asks softly. 

"Ngk."

"That isn't a color." 

Crawley takes in a trembling breath. He slowly releases it, ripped in half on what to do. He wants to run. He wants to run and hide and be far far away from this Angel. But he  _ needs _ to be close. He needs that warmth, the comfort, the  _ touches _ . 

"Green." Crawley relents, voice broken. 

Aziraphale's brows knit together watching the demon continue to cling to that wall. 

"Be honest with me." Warm yet firm, the voice makes Crawley grit his teeth.

His eyes scrunch shut, head bowing as he takes in another shuddering breath. 

"R… red…" Crawley tests, hoping his Angel will show him mercy. 

"Why? My dear, what have I done? Is it the alcohol? Do you know how to sober yourself?" Aziraphale's blabbering quiets as he cuts himself off, allowing Crawley the chance to respond. 

"N… need to be free… away from you. Not a ssssslave." Crawley's fingers touch as his claws finally rip through the wall. 

The debris crumbles to the ground, Crawley trembling harder now. He can't. He can't do this. 

Aziraphale finally has the pieces click together. Crawley  _ submitted _ to him. He's been acting this way since Aziraphale returned, he's been acting so confused and torn up. Does he really think he's a slave? He must if he's acting like this. 

"I… Why would you think…" He can barely get the words out. "I would never… Crawley, we're  _ married _ . H-How could you think…" 

Crawley's gaze finally settles on the Angel. Fueled by alcohol, fueled by the rage and pain of this situation, he can't stop himself. 

"Because I'm trapped! I am not a toy!" He yells, leaning against the wall now.

"You  _ lie _ to me! You- you touch me, you play these  _ games _ ! I'm a Demon but I fee… I feel." Crawley has tears welling up now but the fire hasn't started bubbling up again.

"And when I try, I  _ tried _ to be  _ nice _ for you, you leave me! And it hurtsssss." Crawley chokes out a sob, slipping down the wall. "Hurtssss ssso bad…" 

Crawley gets to the floor, wings curling tightly around himself now. 

Aziraphale can only stare at Crawley. So through all of this, through his own emotions of trying to figure out who Crawley is and what he can and cannot do he's managed to give this horrid impression. 

"Let me go." Crawley sobs. 

Aziraphale has a fist over his chest now, tears and guilt making themselves well known. How could he have done something so horrid? So absolutely  _ vile _ ?! 

"I can't… And, my dear, you have everything wrong. I assure you that I-"

"SSSTOOP LYING!" Crawley screeches, curling tighter into himself now.

The world is spinning and he just can't take it anymore. In an instant the demon shifts down into a tight knot of black coils. The snake's head is hidden tightly within the coils, the poor thing no bigger than a hognose. 

Aziraphale lets out a shuddering sigh at seeing Crawley slip into a form he rarely ever sees anymore. Only under extreme stress, only when his love can't handle anything anymore, does he take this form. And this time Aziraphale is the reason for it. 

"Why…?" Aziraphale breathes, unsure of what to do.

He wants to get to Crawley, hold him, cuddle him, make sure he knows he's safe. But he's being seen now as nothing more than a cruel heavenly thing. He could never truly hurt Crawley, not on purpose at least. But right now he isn't sure what could make the situation better. He knows what can make it worse, at least he thinks he does. 

Crawley curls tighter into himself when he hears Aziraphale hurry from the room. He breathes slowly, world still spinning and  _ hot _ . The cool floor is doing little to cool him down. His breath hitches when he hears Aziraphale come back. He lets out a soft hiss when something is set beside him. He hears the soft clink of glass on the floor and shudders hard. 

When the Angel finally leaves him the door shuts. Crawley slowly peeps his head from his coils, the world still moving without him. He looks to what he's been given and slowly moves closer. Some sort of blanket? A bowl of water? 

He truly is a pet.

Crawley doesn't reject the gifts, though he does have difficulty drinking at first. More or less he manages to shove most of his head into the water before leaning back enough to properly drink. He slinks onto the blanket, feeling  _ something _ inside of it. Oh and it's warm? But a pleasant warm? 

He settles down on the blanket, curling into himself as he tries to get that spinning feeling to go away.

__________

  
  


Aziraphale hasn't stopped pacing in the library since giving Crawley what he thought would help. He doesn't understand how Crawley could come to conclude something so horrid. Aziraphale is  _ not  _ his master. He never will be! They're equals, married and happy! They should be happy. Why is this so difficult now? 

Aziraphale finds himself sitting on a plush couch, face buried in both hands. His posture is horrendous, slouched forward as his shoulders tremble. He just wants Crowley back, for all of this to end. How is he supposed to help someone so terrified of him? How is he supposed to soothe someone who thinks his only goal is to torment and torture the poor demon?

He finds himself praying, begging for advice, for strength. He can't handle seeing his love this way. He can't comprehend having hurt someone so badly and it pains him. He feels as if he's done something akin to shoving a blade directly through Crawley's gut, not even caring to give him a bandage. Salt would be more along the lines of what he's done, shoving the horrid substance within the wound and making it far worse. 

Hours pass, the Angel staying hidden within the library. He isn't even sure how long it's been when the door creaks open the slightest bit. He looks up, spotting a small tongue flicker in the doorway. With a shuddering sigh he shuts his eyes, waiting to see what Crawley does. 

Crawley peeps his head in to look the Angel over, tongue slowly flickering. The air is sour but he still feels the warmth within himself. It's such a strange thing. He's displeased the Angel yet the warmth remains. It makes no sense, the warmth is supposed to be the Angel's happiness right? 

"I'm sorry." Aziraphale breathes.

Crawley's tongue slips back in his mouth. He stares the Angel down, still so confused and scared. He doesn't understand this Angel. He doesn't understand any of this. But he's still here, he isn't running away or hiding. The door wasn't even closed all the way. 

He gives the Angel one last look before slipping back into the hall. Aziraphale feels another pang of guilt hit him, sharp as a knife. He can sense Crawley moving away from him, avoiding him. But he doesn't know what to do. If he tries to comfort Crawley he might run or take it the wrong way again. If he stays here he's actively ignoring the problem but it allows Crawley the freedom to come and go as he pleases. 

Aziraphale lets out a long sigh, slowly sitting back on the couch. He looks the door over, mind drowning in what should be done. 

Back in the bedroom, Crawley is resting upon that heating pad. He sips from the water every now and again, waiting for the Angel to come back. He has to. This is a game, right? It has to be. 

Crawley hides his snoot within some coils. It would be best to rest until the Angel decided to move again. Even if it means getting that burning pain for not seeking the other out. But he  _ wants _ to. So badly, he  _ needs _ the touches. He needs his Angel. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two absolute morons...


	8. Chapter 8

Aziraphale has been listening to the soft click of talons on the floor for hours now. Crawley shifted back some time ago, though Aziraphale doesn't know the time. He doesn't care to. All he cares for is for things to be right again, for Crawley to be happy and unafraid. 

Outside, Crawley has taken to a thorough examination of his home. From the paintings to the books on astronomy, his curiosity is piqued. And without the Angel to bother him he can actually do what he wants. The fire hasn't even come back yet, the Demon trying to shove those thoughts away. 

Before long he finds himself examining an off statue. An angel and a demon fighting with the demon on top? 

_ Why is this here?  _ He thinks to himself, running a finger down the demon's wing. 

His attention shifts when he feels the Angel do  _ something _ . He shudders, wings coming in tight. He swallows thickly, drawn into whatever trap the Angel has laid out before him. He slowly approaches the library door. His eyes widen at seeing a bright light slipping from beneath the door, unease taking over.

He makes his way to the door, the light blinding now. But he forces himself to peep through the crack from before. Within the room is a ball of light, bright blue eyes swirling on bands, white wings curled around this energy. And lying down on the couch, curled and seemingly at peace, is the Angel's corporation. 

Crawley freezes when all eyes settle on him. His wings flap hard, assisting in his quick escape. He runs through the flat, only stopping when he hits that invisible barrier. He claws at it, entire body trembling as he lowers to his knees. He can feel the barrier but he can't  _ see _ it. He lets out a choked sound, a plea to be released.

Back in the library, Aziraphale's eyes have all shut. He lessens his form until he is able to fit beside his corporation on the couch. Rarely ever does he do this, but showing his true self to the demon should have put him at ease. He was entirely wrong. Three eyes open to look his corporation over, to the tears staining his cheeks, to the gold laced over his fingers and clothes. 

_ What should I do? _ He thinks to himself, though his thoughts travel.

Crawley's hands clamp to his head when he hears that disembodied voice whisper to him. He curls tightly into himself, knowing pain is to come. The Angel is going to try and  _ smite _ him. He knows it. 

_ Everything scares him. _

Crawley grits his teeth as the Angel continues thinking aloud. It's near painful, something so  _ holy _ invading his mind. 

_ God, give me strength. Give me the knowledge of what to do. I need to make things right, I need Crawley to trust me.  _

Crawley's head is pounding with each word, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

_ How do I help him? How do I take his fear away? How do I convince him my love is true? God, please, I beg of you. Help me. It hurts to see him this way.  _

Crawley's claws dig into his skin, black beginning to ooze from the wounds. He wants to rip his own head off, discorporated himself,  _ escape _ . 

_ I love him so much. _

And the words keep beating into his skull, ripping a whimper from his throat. 

_ I would do anything for him.  _

Crawley's mind screams for it to stop, or at least he thinks it's his mind.

_ Oh dear. _

With those two final words the pain stops and that energy fades away. Crawley collapses on the ground. His chest is heaving as he tries to calm down from the pain. He whimpers on the floor, those words ingrained so harshly into his mind now. They  _ sting _ as they echo through his thoughts, plaguing him. 

Back in the library, Aziraphale has curled into a small ball on the couch. His eyes are wide, horror written all over his face. Crawley could hear him? And he sounded so desperate, so in  _ pain _ .

_ Why does everything I do hurt him?! _

__________

  
  


It takes until the sun sets for the demon to move from his spot on the floor. Slowly, oh so slowly, he makes his way to the library. He pauses at the door, taking a deep breath. As he exhaled the door opens, Crawley stepping inside. 

Aziraphale looks up at him, exhausted and covered in tears. His eyes widen at seeing the dried black ooze in that fiery hair, the blood remaining on his fingers. He lets out a shuddering breath, more tears welling up. 

"Please stay away, I don't want to hurt you anymore." Aziraphale pleads, choking down a sob. 

Crawley only stares at him. He slowly moves forward, pausing once he's right in front of the Angel. He leans down and gets right in Aziraphale's face. The Angel looks at him with tear filled eyes, letting the demon take hold of his wrists. His hands are guided to Crowley's head, the demon pressing them there and shutting his eyes.

Aziraphale feels the blood burning into his skin but along with it there is something else. Crawley seems to let  _ something _ slip through. Something that's purely demonic, some form of energy that has Aziraphale wanting to recoil. But his hands stay firm, held by the demon. 

Crawley waits patiently for the burning pain he's only ever heard of. He's allowed himself to become vulnerable, for this Angel to go through his harsh exterior to the soft inside of his being. His defenses are down, his energy redirected elsewhere. He wants it to end. He needs it to end. 

Crawley lets out a soft sigh of relief as he feels something warm slip from the Angel's fingers. He thinks it's beginning, that the end will soon come, but that warmth remains. 

_ Smite me. _

"No.." Aziraphale murmurs, in awe that he can feel Crawley's thoughts. 

_ Please... _

Aziraphale's fingers tremble as he tries to open himself in the same way Crawley has. 

_ Why would I hurt you? I love you. _

_ You lie! No Angel would ever love a demon! Smite me! I will discorporated myself if you-  _

Crawley's thoughts shift when he's pulled hard into an embrace. He resists for only a moment, a warmth washing over his entire body. He trembles in the hold, his own vulnerability allowing the Angel to draw him in. 

Everything goes dark, the world disappearing. All he knows is that there is a voice here, a pleading gentle voice. It begs for forgiveness, for Crawley to accept his love, for the demon to accept him. Crawley can only sneer at it. 

Aziraphale has no idea what he's doing or why he's brought some of Crawley's essence within himself but he has to show him. Somehow, he  _ has _ to. And so he begins thinking hard on his most fond memories.

Crawley hisses lowly as the darkness shifts to something different. Oh, he knows this. And he's looking at himself now? His hiss dies down as he realizes the Angel is showing him what he's seen through his own eyes. He can feel the chill of rain on wings that are not his own and sees himself step forward out of the rain.

The memories then shift, jumping through time to the two dining somewhere ancient. He sees himself with short curls, glasses covering his eyes, and he's smiling. They seem to be having a good time together. 

Crawley's aggression begins to melt away as confusion takes over. He can feel so much warmth from the Angel, even as it shifts to Aziraphale being horrified by whatever the hell Crowley is wearing. And the Angel is locked up?

Crawley is in awe at seeing the clothing swap, the human being carted out to his demise. The memory shifts to the two enjoying food yet again. More specifically, Aziraphale eating while Crowley sips on something. 

And the memories continue, Aziraphale showing him everything he can think of to try and convince his love he truly  _ is _ loved. 

Crawley feels something soft when he sees them taking care of a child- the Antichrist for sure. And then there's nothing but awe when the Angel goes to smite him but threatens him instead. He sees the end of the world, or what should be the end of the world. 

Crawley shudders as he sees the memories shift again, to them holding hands. A picnic of sorts, Aziraphale petting through his hair. Another shift and he's giving Crowley a kiss in a car- a Bentley.

Time shifts hard until it's their wedding. Something small, something pure. Apparently Newt is an ordained minister and a few humans are there but the event is quite small. When they kiss he can feel the Angel's warmth and love like it's his own. And Crowley seems to be just as happy.

When the memories shift again he can see Crowley  _ glaring _ at the angel. 

"No. It's  _ dangerous _ ! I'll be dangerous! You can't possibly- no. Stay in your shop." 

"But I can help you! I can do something- and you won't hurt me."

"You don't know that." Crowley's voice is firm. He steps forward and gets right in his Angel's face. "I won't let you get hurt over thiss." 

"And I won't let you be alone! What am I supposed to do? Keep away from you? Worry? My dear, you can't possibly think I would abandon you!" Aziraphale retorts, pain in his voice.

Crowley grits his teeth and lowers his head. He hisses through his teeth. "If I hurt you."

"You won't. I know you won't." Aziraphale reassures, kissing him. 

Crowley kisses back, Crawley's own mouth shifting a bit. Oh how he wants that to be him now. 

"We do this my way." Crowley huffs. 

When the darkness shoots back to light, Crawley gasps. His pupils shrink from ovals to slits, his energy returning where it's supposed to be. Aziraphale rubs at his forehead, a minor headache having taken hold. 

"You aren't lying…" Crawley murmurs, awe in his voice. 

"I never was, my dear." Aziraphale's voice is soft, his own voice hurting his head.

Crawley slowly moves from his kneeling position to stand. He towers over the Angel, expression unreadable. 

_ All of this is my fault… _

"Angel…" Crawley murmurs, getting Aziraphale to look up. 

"Ngk…" words fail him but he knows what his body should do.

He leans forward and presses their foreheads together, eyes closing as he runs a hand through his Angel's hair. His wings move forward, curling protectively around them both. Aziraphale feels more tears well up, his body slumping as relief flowes through him. 

"I'm so sorry for all of this. I never meant to h-" Aziraphale is cut off by lips against his own.

Crawley pulls away after a few seconds, nuzzling into Aziraphale's cheek. Aziraphale lets out a trembling sigh, slipping his arms around the demon. 

"Green…" Crawley murmurs, shifting to bury himself in Aziraphale's neck.

Aziraphale pets down his back, shutting his eyes. He smiles warmly now, tears of relief slipping down his cheeks. 

"I love you." Aziraphale whispers. 

Crawley hugs him tight at that, taking a deep inhale of his Angel's scent. 

"Mine."

And  _ that _ sounds exactly like his Crowley. Possessive, loving, never truly able to say those three words but showing it so well. He kisses Crowley's head and wipes his face. 

"Yes, all yours." Aziraphale confirms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently when highly uncomfortable they both shift forms... 
> 
> Azi just needs to speak to God so badly so why not leave his corporation and try to send out that holiness?
> 
> Because it'll burn into the mind of the demon you have trapped. Moron.
> 
> And I don't know why I made Crawley give up like that. Probably because I'm thinking of a reverse omens AU where... Bad shit happens. But whatever.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally some fluff.

With the truth finally laid out before him, Crawley can't help but feel like a fool. This Angel truly is a bastard but he's filled with warmth and love. It's addicting and he truly wishes to be able to see Aziraphale commit more sins. It's such an enjoyable thing, he can only wonder what all his Angel has done. 

But most importantly, he can finally let his guard down. He can relax, he can indulge. He knows he's safe, truly safe. Heaven and Hell have abandoned them, God being a separate thing altogether of course, so they can indulge in one another as much as they desire. 

"Angel…" Crawley hums, shifting to look up into those blue eyes.

The gold and red streaks on the both of them have been miracled away, Crawley's little cuts and blood gone as well. Aziraphale looks down at him fondly, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes, my dear?" Aziraphale's voice is filled with so much calm, so much love and gentleness. 

"Will I ever see you again?" 

Aziraphale furrows his brows at that. He then thinks back to what Crowley had said. How long between these shifts? Well, it honestly doesn't matter. 

"I plan on staying with Crowley until the end of time." He hums, cupping Crawley's cheek.

Crawley leans into it, eyes half lidded now. He has a serene little smile on his face.

"I want you to touch me…" Crawley murmurs. 

Aziraphale pets beneath an eye with his thumb, his other hand tracing idle patterns into his back. 

"I still don't feel comfortable having sex with you." Aziraphale sighs, looking away.

"Then don't. I don't _ need _ sex, Angel. I want attention." Crawley huffs the last bit, averting his gaze. 

"And my wings itch." He grumbles that bit, causing Aziraphale to blush quite hard.

"B-But you liked it too much, I was, didn't it make you want to-"

"Melt into the sssheetsss." 

"Not… not horny?" Aziraphale finds that word odd but whatever.

"In blisssssss. Nobody hasss ever touched me like that. Feels good… ssssso good…" Crawley's voice is turning to hisses, a bit of embarrassment leaking through.

Aziraphale sighs and shifts out from beneath Crawley. The demon chokes on a whine as his Angel leaves him but then he feels a hand stroke through his hair. His head is guided onto a warm lap and he nuzzles deeply into Aziraphale's tum. 

"Crawley, tell me if this is too much." Aziraphale speaks softly, _ firmly _.

"Grnn." Crawley mumbles, entirely muffled. 

Aziraphale gives a small nod, reaching out to ghost a hand down the left wing. Crawley shivers at the touch, his wing splaying and moving in to allow easier access. As those fingers trail back up he choked down a sound of pure bliss. He fails at being quiet when those fingers massage into the base of his wing. 

The loud moan has Aziraphale stilling, Crawley whining at the lack of touch. 

"Does it really feel that good?" Aziraphale asks, slowly working his fingers again. 

"Soo, so goo_ ooood _, Angel… nnnnghmmmm mmmm… mmm…." Crawley's voice slips into soft moans and groans of absolute bliss. 

Aziraphale takes the demon's word for it and continues his petting. Before long he adjusts them again, getting Crowley to sit in front of himself while he properly pets over the wings. He's even miracled a warm cloth to clean them. 

The only thing keeping Crawley from collapsing is the mountain of pillows in front of himself. He leans heavily on them, holding them tight as his angel continues that careful grooming. He shivers at feeling a kiss on his back, the Angel moving to his other wing. 

His moans have quieted down into soft sighs, the touches still very welcome. By the time Aziraphale is done he feels like a giant pile of jelly. And the touches don't stop. He feels a brush through his hair, easing through and combing out the knots with the help of miracles. His hair is braided once more, this time into something more fun. 

He doesn't care about anything until the touches stop. Aziraphale sits behind him on his knees, admiring his work. Crawley hums and slowly leans back until his head bumps into Aziraphale's chest. His pupils are blown wide, a dreamy look on his face. Aziraphale can't help but chuckle, leaning down to kiss his forehead. 

"How are you feeling, my dear?" 

Crawley only hums and smiles, reaching a hand up to pet Aziraphale's cheek. 

"I'll take that as good." Aziraphale chuckles.

He guides Crawley back to lying on the bed, or he tries to. But the demon can be quick when he wants to be. With a squeak Aziraphale finds himself face down on the bed, two massive hands on his back. Before he can demand answers they begin to knead into his flesh.

The loud groan of bliss has Crawley letting out something akin to a contented purr. He leans forward, gripping those shoulders and working his thumbs into the muscle. 

"Thisssss isss how I feel when you touch me." He murmurs. 

Aziraphale can completely understand why Crawley was making those noises now. And when or where did he learn how to massage? Doesn't matter, it feels _ good _. 

Crawley's hands knead and pull at the flesh as he works his way down. As he gets to Aziraphale's hips he lingers above the waistline. Oh how he wants to touch and squeeze that plump ass but it would ruin everything. Instead he skips the area, moving down to Aziraphale's thick thighs. 

"Where did you learn this?" Aziraphale breathes after some time, curiosity having gotten the better of him. 

"Succubus and Incubus practices. Ease the humans into their temptations. But if done correctly-" Crawley hums, working his thumbs deep into a knot between shoulder blades. 

Aziraphale gasps and tenses, though the pain eases away. 

"- doesn't lead to sex… or desires." He finishes.

Crawley takes his time in feeling out his Angel. It's honestly surprising to feel so much muscle beneath the squish. But he can feel it and Aziraphale's appearance is a lie to what he truly is. But why send someone weak to guard the Eastern Gate way back when? 

Crawley's hands eventually find themselves over where wings should be. He rubs sweetly over the area, eyes half lidded. He wants to touch his Angel there too, show him how good it can feel. 

"Crawley, do you know how to ah…" Aziraphale feels a bit awkward in asking this, but the demon doesn't have them. "Groom feathers?"

Crawley lets out another rumble akin to a purr, leaning down to nuzzle into Aziraphale's neck. 

"No. But I want to." Crawley smiles as he sits back, letting Aziraphale think.

Aziraphale feels those hands lift off his back and sighs. There's the risk of being hurt here, clearly on accident, but Crawley has been so sweet now. He shuts his eyes, letting his wings form. 

"Be gentle…" Aziraphale breathes. 

Crawley's mouth feels dry as those wings spread out before him. Pure white, absolutely beautiful. The feathers look so soft, so well groomed. A hand slowly moves down to stroke through feathers. 

"Sssoft…" Crawley breathes. 

Aziraphale relaxes into his arms as Crawley gets to work. It feels almost as if the demon is scared of hurting him, like he's something to be treated with the utmost care. It's a lovely feeling. He hisses through his teeth when fingers brush over a bad feather. 

Hands recoil, the demon's pupils shifting from ovals to slits. He watches as the Angel reaches behind himself, petting through the feathers. When he sees the Angel wince at his own touch his brows furrow. Those wings go rigid and Aziraphale plucks out the single bad feather, a loud sigh of release slipping from his lips. 

His wings flutter as they settle back on the bed, a small drop of light at the end of the plucked feather. Crawley hesitantly reaches out, taking the feather from Aziraphale's fingers. He looks the small drop of holy blood over, confusion and concern written all over his face. 

"Could you heal that, my dear? I can't quite reach." Aziraphale hums. 

Crawley slips the feather within his robes before reaching out to that small bit of light between feathers. He holds his breath as he runs his fingers through the feathers, a finger brushing over the small wound. It _ stings _ but a quick miracle has the wound shut quite nicely. His finger trails over the small spot before he goes back to running them through feathers. 

Aziraphale is in bliss at the gentle touches. They're nowhere near Crowley's fingers but it still feels nice. His love has always been able to groom his wings so well, the pain of plucked feathers little more than pressure when he does it. Demonic miracles can do wonders if done correctly. 

He lies on the bed for what feels like hours, Crawley petting through his wings and massaging over his back. The demon is entirely content, touching and _ loving _ over the Angel at his mercy. He's even grown a bit bold with his touches, allowing talons to gently trace over the fabric. 

When the Angel grows restless from being in one spot for far too long, he gives a little wiggle. Crawley sits back, watching Aziraphale's wings stretch and flutter before resting snug against his back. He pushes himself up from the bed, back giving a symphony of pops as he does so. He sighs out and turns back to Crawley, happy as can be. He feels so at peace right now. 

"I think a bit of food would be nice. And I do have more wine in the kitchen." Aziraphale's smile slips through his voice. 

Crawley gives a small nod, glancing down to his hands. They're a tad sore from all that work but it was entirely worth it to feel his Angel. He glances up when the bed shifts, Aziraphale slipping down. His wings remain out and Crawley can't help but feel a bit of pride in his work. 

He hesitantly takes a hand when it extends towards him, guiding him off the bed. There's the soft click of talons as he steps down, Aziraphale smiling warmly at him. He feels as if he can melt from that gaze alone. 

"I could try to order something. But, ah… mobile phones never do agree with me." Aziraphale doesn't release his hand, beginning to walk out the room.

Crawley follows, a wing fanning out to curl around his Angel. Aziraphale moves closer to Crawley, giving him another smile. He can't help but think of how soft Crawley is being with him now. Fear is a horrible thing, the unknown something that causes humans and celestial beings alike to panic and jump to conclusions. If only he'd done this in the beginning…

Aziraphale guides Crawley to sit at a stool, walking off to get the wines and Crowley's phone. He puts the wine bottle down, a quick snap making glasses appear before them. And then he's trying to figure out how to work this horrid contraption. 

Crawley's eyes go wide as he eyes the light box in Aziraphale's hands. The pictures shift with his fingers, clearly some sort of magic. He leans in close as food pictures finally form, Aziraphale grinning in victory. He begins poking through the options until the very end. He furrows his brows as he reads through everything. Correct address, correct food, and an appropriate tip. Perfect. 

He submits his order and sets the phone down. What should have taken maybe five minutes took all of fifteen for him to figure out. Had Crowley been there he would've snatched the phone away and ordered one of Aziraphale's favorites before pocketing _ his _ phone. 

"What is that…? A mobile phones?" Crawley asks, reaching out to it.

"Well, a mobile phone or cellphone as they call it. Recent invention by the humans. It lets you speak to one another on different parts of the world. Crowley uses it to show me videos- moving pictures with sound. I might be able to…" Aziraphale trails off as he picks the phone back up.

He fiddles with it, Crawley leaning over his shoulder. As the things before him shift his eyes go wide at seeing a massive assortment of images. Every single one is of Crowley and the Angel. Aziraphale taps on the most recent one. 

They seem to be in some sort of cafe. Crowley has an arm wrapped around Aziraphale who's face is red as an apple, food still in his mouth. And Crowley is grinning, sharp toothed and all too amused. 

Aziraphale sighs as he remembers this particular day. Crowley had been telling him on how his face looked while he ate. Almost like he was giving bedroom eyes to his food. 

There were so many pictures on the phone, Aziraphale idly skimming through them. Some were of Crowley alone. He would be showing off a new outfit or taking a "selfie" causing some sort of mayhem. When it was only of Aziraphale the Angel usually had a warm smile on his face. He would be reading a book or sipping tea, indulging in whatever he pleased. 

Crawley's pupils shift to slits when he sees Aziraphale having changed his- no _ her _ outfit. And looks. And _ everything _. He can only gawk at the dress she's in, that same beautiful face softened and more feminine. Long blonde hair, curling so beautifully. And then the picture changes to Crowley wearing something matching, also presenting as female. 

"Crowley wanted to show me how nice dresses can be. I've worn kilts before, not for me, and the dress was nice but… not for me." Aziraphale muses aloud, continuing on the journey through the pictures.

Aziraphale raises a brow when he sees one with a triangle in the center. He presses it and the video begins. 

There's silent snickering from Crowley, the camera focused on the floor. It quickly shifts to a sleeping Aziraphale, bundled up and warm. There's a book on his lap, head tilted to the side as he lets out a soft snore. The scene shifts again, this time with there being words at the bottom of the video. 

"How to wake a sleeping Angel?" Aziraphale reads aloud. 

His eyes widen when he sees one of the worst contraptions to ever be invented shove right next to his ear. The airhorn is wiggled before it's pulled away, Crowley leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. And he keeps kissing him until Aziraphale is chuckling out of his sleep, trying to push him away.

Crawley doesn't understand what that _ thing _ was but it seemed demonic somehow. Aziraphale continues going through the pictures, eventually finding another video. That same device is shoved into the face of some feathered beast. It erupts in a loud sound that has a sinister grin forming on Crawley's lips. And of course the bird squawks and runs away. 

"_ Such rude things. _" Aziraphale says somewhere in the background before the video ends again. 

The two continue skimming through what Crowley found to be worthy of taking images of. He gets to the end of that folder and curiosity gets the better of him. There's one with "emojis" as the name. Apparently "😇 x 😈" means something. Aziraphale pokes the folder, face shooting red at the very first image. 

Behind him, Crawley's breath hitches. The phone is shoved down on the table screen down. Aziraphale clears his throat and looks away from Crawley. Crawley can only reminisce on what he'd just seen. Aziraphale, almost naked and entirely plump wearing nothing more than a few flashy bits of fabric to cover his effort. 

"... How does it do that?" Crawley asks, trying to distract from the awkwardness. 

Aziraphale appreciates it and plucks the phone back up. He exits out of the pictures and looks around for the camera button. Once he finds it their faces flash onto the screen. Crawley stares at it with wide eyes, leaning in close now. 

"Ssstrange…" 

"Humans can be so smart. Now, come here. Let's take a picture." Aziraphale gently guides Crowley back.

He smiles to the camera, doing his best to position them both in it. Crawley inches down so he can be right beside Aziraphale in it. 

"Smile~!" Aziraphale hums, grinning. 

Crawley gives a half grin, his left lip lifting in an attempt at a smile. Aziraphale still takes the picture. He opens his mouth to speak but there comes a knock at the door. 

"Oh, the food!" 

Aziraphale hops from the stool, wings disappearing as he makes his way to the door. Crawley can hear it open, a small bit of chatter, and then it shuts again. He watches his Angel come back with a large bag of goodies. He isn't sure if he's prepared to watch the Angel indulge again. 

"Let's hope they have everything this time." He hums, beginning to set everything down.

Crawley watches as the food piles up before them both. Little slabs of meat on white things. Colorful slabs of meat at that. And there's rolls of them as well. He watches Aziraphale pick up some sort of stick and break it in half before opening up the first container. 

"It sssmellss weird…" Crawley comments. 

"It _ is _ raw fish, my dear." 

Aziraphale knows it's silly to order food like this when he could just walk to the restaurant and get anything his heart desires. But right now is not the time to leave. 

Crawley watches as Aziraphale uses the sticks to pick up one of the roll things. His pupils dilate as the Angel slips it within his mouth. He hears a hum of bliss as Aziraphale chews his food, thoroughly enjoying it. 

Crawley's elbow finds its way into the counter, his head propped on a hand. His eyes become half lidded as he observes the Angel indulge. Such a wonderful sight, absolutely beautiful. He still can't believe this sinful thing is an _ Angel _. And he can't even remember this one's name. Angels always did have such odd names.

Aziraphale eventually pops open the wine and pours Crawley a glass so he has something to sip on. And he does, gaze never leaving his Angel. He enjoys the flavor, the way the drink changes as he drinks more and more. What is once a bitter taste becomes near sweet, something pleasant on the tongue. But what would be even more pleasant is having the Angel's lips against his own, savoring him as he does the food. 

"Would you like to try?" Aziraphale hums, offering out one of the bits of food.

Crawley crosses his eyes as he examines the pink meat lying on white stuff. He looks back to that warm smile, those bright blue eyes, and can't help it. He leans forward and takes the food into his mouth in one bite. 

At first he's disgusted by the texture but something in him says that the meat on top is good. So he chews and swallows. His attention then shifts to the unopened container, one having eggs and little slabs of the colorful meat inside. No nasty textured white stuff. 

Aziraphale spots his wandering eye and gives the box a small push to his love. 

"This one is yours, if you like." 

Crawley realizes in that moment that the Angel knows more about him than himself. He glances to the Angel then back to the food before opening the plastic container. He sets it aside and tilts his head. The eggs are calling to him, demanding to be eaten. But he wants to try the other colorful meats first. 

He picks up another pink one between a thumb and forefinger. He examines it, opens his mouth, and freezes when there's a small flash. Aziraphale gives him an innocent smile, having just stolen a picture of the demon. Crawley eyes him before putting the food in his mouth.

He runs his tongue over the fish in his mouth, finding the taste alright. He looks Aziraphale dead in the eyes as he swallows it whole. And the Angel doesn't seem bothered by it. So this is acceptable to swallow whole? Wonderful. 

"Tassstess… ssstrange…" Crawley muses.

He picks up another and pops it into his mouth, finding he likes this one even better. Piece by piece the sashimi disappears. Aziraphale takes a few more pictures before figuring out how to make a video. He _ really _ wants to see Crowley eating an egg again. 

Crawley eyes Aziraphale as he keeps the camera on him before letting out a soft sigh. 

"You ssseem to like watching me eat." He states, picking up the egg. 

He examines it before slipping it into his mouth. His pupils dilate a bit as instinct takes over, the egg being crushed between tongue and the roof of his mouth. He feels the yolk escape, the liquid drowning his tongue in warm bliss. His pupils widen even more as he slowly swallows. He gives a few blinks, tongue running over his lips as his pupils shrink back to slits.

Aziraphale is _ grinning _ at him now. He feels his face heat up but picks up the other egg. He pops it in his mouth, pupils dilating again. Aziraphale chuckles to himself as his serpent indulges, wishing he had bought more eggs. 

The video ends and Aziraphale sets the phone back down. Crawley licks over his lips, looking Aziraphale's face over. He wants to taste him now, plunge his tongue in to have what is his. Instead he leans forward and gently touches their foreheads together. His eyes close and he lets out a content little sound reminiscent of a purr. 

Aziraphale chuckles and pets through his hair, finding the unique affection endearing. Hands slip down his back, pulling him closer until Crawley has picked him up. He squeaks as the Demon holds him closely, settling back on his own stool. His wings coil around the Angel, a hand stroking sweetly down his back. Aziraphale relaxes into the embrace, nuzzling into Crawley's chest. His eyes close and he lets out a content sigh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The true reason why Crawley doesn't ever say Aziraphale's name: he fucking forgot it.
> 
> Also Azi complaining about never seeing Crowley eat is a lie. More or less he was exaggerating. He never sees Crowley eat anything he has to chew more specifically. Or more than a bite here and there. But he does eat... Sometimes. Azi just knows what he likes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just needed to end it. Sorry.

Crawley spends the rest of the day curled around his Angel, touching him, being touched. He is in his own equivalent of heaven and all the pain and suffering from before, the nonsense he had come to conclude, is little more than a distant memory. 

When the two curl up for bed together, Crawley pulls Aziraphale onto his chest. His wings coil protectively around his love, Aziraphale giving him the warmest of smiles. 

"My dear, this has been a wonderful day." Aziraphale hums.

Crawley nods, shifting a bit to better hold Aziraphale. He knows the Angel doesn't need sleep, neither of them do, but indulging in a bit of sloth together sounds lovely. He waits until Aziraphale is at peace upon himself before using small demonic influences to truly put him to rest. 

Soft snores soon slip from Aziraphale, his expression one of true peace. Crawley lets out a long sigh, running his claws through blonde fluff.

__________

  
  


In the morning, Aziraphale is the first to wake. The first thing he notices is the weird fleshy feeling on his back. The second is that Crowley's face has returned to normal, the scales having disappeared. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, slowly sitting up from that warm embrace. 

He scrunches his nose at the scent of sulfur in the air, of something burning. His gaze shifts to whatever was wrapped around himself and he freezes. Horrified, a hand reaches out to ghost over a bare wing. Not a single feather, just chatted flesh. 

He lets out a shuddering breath, gaze shifting down to Crowley. 

"Crowley?" He whispers.

The demon in question groans at his sleep being disturbed. He shifts in his spot, a hand slapping over his face to wipe away sleep and just rub. It lowers and amber eyes meet blue.

"Angel? 's been a week already?" Crawley yawns as he speaks.

His whole body gives a good stretch at that, arms raising over his head while naked and charred wings spread wide. Aziraphale's brows remain furrowed, even as his love sits up and gives him an unsure smile. 

"Hopefully I didn't give you too much trouble…" There's a hint of fear in his voice, that smile trying to hide it.

Aziraphale sighs and grabs Crowley, pulling him close in a near crushing embrace. His own wings, still out from the night of cuddles, curl protectively around Crowley. Crawley hugs back, fear beginning to consume him now. 

They'd clearly been cuddling in bed together and Aziraphale's wings only come out when he's comfortable. Did the eviler him hurt Aziraphale? Force his wings out? A quick once over has them looking groomed, though there is a missing feather. He runs a finger over it, sensing the raw demonic energy that healed the small wound. 

"I missed you so much." Aziraphale finally manages. 

Crowley pets down his back, still alarmed and concerned. 

"What did I do…?" Crowley's voice is just above a whisper. 

He holds his breath when Aziraphale goes rigid in his arms. And then those wings are disappearing with his Angel's unease. Crowley gently takes hold of Aziraphale's shoulders, pulling him back so they're looking eye to eye. 

"What did I do?" Crowley's voice is low, filled with a protective rage.

Aziraphale's eyes fill with tears and he looks away. Guilt begins eating him alive again, of how many horrors he out that poor creature through. 

"You… Crawley…" Aziraphale stops himself to breathe. "I terrified the poor dear…" 

Crowley's brows knit together as he tries to process this. 

"And I… I hurt him on accident… so many times… I didn't mean to." Aziraphale's voice is dangerously fragile now. 

Crowley's burnt wings curl up behind his back as he pets down Aziraphale's cheek. He guides his love to look him in the eyes, his Angel's filled with tears of guilt. 

"Did I hurt you?" Crowley asks again, voice firm.

Aziraphale shuts his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks. 

"Crawley tried but he couldn't. And then he believed I was his tormenter? Your owner? I-I don't understand how he thought this but he did and-and-!"

Crowley pulls him in close, shushing him and smoothing down his back. He has no idea  _ how _ this eviler him could think of such things. Hell, he couldn't believe how Aziraphale went unscathed through all of this!

He hisses through his teeth when a hand ghosts over a damaged wing. 

"I hurt him so much…" Aziraphale whispers, burying his face in Crowley's neck.

Crowley stares blankly at the far wall as he tries to think all of this over. His body feels as it should, his power back to normal. His Angel feels and smells- wait. 

Crowley takes a deep inhale of Aziraphale's hair, finding the scent filled with sulfur. And there are faint traces of demonic energy everywhere his eviler self touched. He traces his fingers down Aziraphale's back, relief flowing through him when he feels the energy entirely skip Aziraphale's ass. 

"Probably deserved it. Wasn' really me, was it?" Crowley murmurs. 

Aziraphale pulls back from Crowley's embrace to give him a very stern, tear filled look. 

"Crawley didn't deserve any of it! Admittedly he did try to- but then he called me sour and- …" Aziraphale's split thinking way of speaking was making Crowley anxious again. 

"From the beginning, Angel. Tell me everything." Crowley speaks softly as he pets a thumb over Aziraphale's cheek, his Angel sniffling as he leans into the touch.

__________

By the end of it all, the traumatic portion that is, Crowley is giving Aziraphale a very strange look. 

"... Wait, wait, wait." Crowley interrupts, giving a small hand wave. "You took a video of me-er Crawley?"

Aziraphale gives a nod, sitting prim and proper on the bed. 

"Yes, along with some pictures. Your phone is in the kitchen- no don't delete them!" Aziraphale yells as Crowley scrambles off the bed and bolts.

Aziraphale is quick to follow, chasing after Crowley as he rounds a corner. Crowley scrambles through the kitchen trying to find the blasted device only for Aziraphale to open a drawer, holding the damned device to his chest. 

Crowley whips around, embarrassment written all over his face. 

"Give me the phone."

"Only if you promise not to delete them." Aziraphale huffs, holding the phone firm. 

Crowley grits his teeth. Aziraphale squawks when the phone disappears from his grasp into Crowley's own, the demon quick to go straight into his gallery.

"Crowley! Don't you dare delete them!" Aziraphale snaps, rushing over.

Crowley holds the phone out of reach, easily getting to the pictures of-

"What the Hel-Heav- somewhere is- that's what I looked like?!" Crowley can't help but bring the phone in closer, eyes wide.

Aziraphale watches him  _ very _ closely as he begins examining the pictures. Crowley is in absolute awe at what Crawley looked like, what  _ he _ became. And then there's one of his Angel, his pure beautiful Angel, dwarfed by this abomination. He can see the claws, the fangs, the horns, everything more than capable of destroying his Angel. The beast even has a faint red Halo, broken at the top; incomplete. 

When he gets to a video he hesitantly presses play. 

The demon in the video seems to be curious, a bit cautious though. And he's holding a soft boiled egg? One that hasn't had the shell removed yet. Crowley can feel his own mouth water slightly on instinct but ignores it, instead hearing his own voice but all too wrong. 

" _ You ssseem to like watching me eat."  _

Aziraphale peeps closer to watch Crawley eat the egg, focusing on his eyes. Crowley feels his face heat up at how  _ animalistic _ it is, hot primal. The pupils dilating, the way his counterpart savors the treat, and his tongue is slit? 

Crowley blinks when the video ends, lowering his phone. 

"That  _ thing _ was scared of you?" Crowley asks in absolute disbelief. 

"Yes, he even knelt before me and… well he said he submitted to me." Aziraphale sighs.

Crowley slips an arm around Aziraphale, his burnt wings still out. 

"Did you… Did you do anything with him?" Crowley swallows after speaking, gaze low. 

Aziraphale's face heats up and he shifts his own gaze to the ground. 

"I… we kissed… I wanted to but Crawley isn't you so I-we never had sex, my dear." Aziraphale sounds highly uncomfortable, guilty even.

Crowley visibly relaxes, pulling Aziraphale close with one arm. 

"I'm sorry…" Aziraphale murmurs. 

Crowley slips the phone in his pajamas' pocket, holding Aziraphale in both arms now. He nuzzles down into the fluff of his hair, taking in a scent that isn't his own. 

_ He will smell like me again soon enough… _

"No one touchesss you but me." Crowley's voice is a low hiss, sending a shiver down Aziraphale's spine.

"And the same goes for you, my dear boy." Aziraphale murmurs, a soft smile on his lips.

Crowley hisses again when his wing is touched, the burnt appendage shifting away from gentle fingers. 

"How do we fix this?" Aziraphale pets down Crowley's back, voice filled with concern. 

"Time usually. Keep 'em out to heal…" Crowley sighs, dreading the itching soon to come.

"Have you ever tried an oatmeal bath?" Aziraphale offers, keeping his gaze on those poor wings. Not a single feather…

"No." Crowley huffs, getting the feeling there's going to be a  _ lot _ of pampering soon. 

__________

It takes a few months for Crowley's wings to heal in their entirety. And, in that time, the two have had much to discuss. Crowley has many opinions upon who or what Crawley is now that Aziraphale has witnessed him first hand. 

And with the demon's own explanation, Crawley being Crowley at the beginning without a single memory and only instinct, it draws so many questions. In time, in years mind you, Crowley has finally grown to a solid conclusion as to what this Crawley is. 

And when the time comes, so far into the future now, for that beast to return, they're both ready. 

Aziraphale has been given a list of questions to ask, the two relocating to a little cott out in the middle of nowhere. Fields of green surround them, the world seemingly going back to a time before technology and modern things. So much has changed even now, Aziraphale is far more lost, but Crowley carries him through. 

__________

  
  


When the day comes, Aziraphale waking to the harsh scent of sulfur and burning feathers, he has the softest smile on his face. He only hopes the demon remembers him from before. 

Aziraphale yawns as he slips from the bed, making his way through the small home. He follows the path of burning feathers, pausing at the front door- which is wide open. 

The demon is standing tall in a garden, wings spread wide. His back is to Aziraphale and yet he hasn't tried to run, hasn't tried to fly away and send mayhem through all of humanity. 

"Crawley?" Aziraphale calls out, breaking the silence.

The demon's wings lower, Crawley slowly turning to face the Angel. Between his fingers is a single white feather, the demon's focus shifting from it to the principality. 

"Why do I have your feather?" He asks, brows furrowed. 

"Oh, my dear, you don't remember a thing do you?" Aziraphale sighs, warmth and patience in his voice. 

He isn't making the same mistake again. 

"Angel, why are you here? Where am I? Why.." Crawley trails off as the Angel approaches him, standing a mere foot away now.

Aziraphale reaches up, gently putting a hand on his chest. There's a warmth there, something that Crawley finds both alarming and ensnaring. It frightens him, the way his body responds to an  _ angel's _ touch. His breath hitches as Aziraphale reaches out with his other hand, gently taking the one holding his feather. 

"I am Aziraphale, Crowley's husband. You are Crawley, my love before he found himself." Aziraphale states, gently giving that hand a small kiss.

"The warmth you feel in place of hellfire is my love. I am yours and you are mine, my dear. I can show you, if you don't believe me." Aziraphale looks up into those golden eyes, the pupils having shifted to ovals.

"Azsssiraphale… I… know you…" Crawley's voice is softer now, the faintest but of recognition within. 

Aziraphale smiles warmly, chuckling when the demon leans down and presses their foreheads together.

Yes, this time around things will be far different. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait... Life stuff...


End file.
